THE  KING  OF  THE 
THUNDERING  HERD 


CLARENCE   HAWK 


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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


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THE  KING  OF  THE 
THUNDERING  HERD 

The  Biography  of  an  American  Bison 


HE  SET  His  TEETH  AND  GRIPPED  THE  BUFFALO  WITH  His  LEGS 


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flg^FTHE  BIOGRAPHY  OF Ipf^f" 
AN  AMERICAN  BISON    ^v' 

CLARENCE^  HAWKES  ^ 

AUTHOR  OF     "  ^   J 

A  WILDERNESS  DOfr          ^  \  1 

THE  BIOGRAPHY  OP  A  WOLF 

SHOVELHORNS 

THE  BIOGRAPHY  OF  A  MOOSE 

BLACK  BRUIN 

THE  BIOGRAPHY  Of  A  BEAR 
SHAGGYCOAT 

THE  BIOGRAPHY  Of  A  BIAVER 

etc. 


CHARLES  COPEUWD 


PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE  W.JACOBS  &  C9 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1911,  by 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 

Published  September,  1911 


All  rights  reservnl 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


> 


Dedicated  tt 

MT  FELLOW  MEMBERS  OF  THE 
AMERICAN  BISON   SOCIETT 

and  is  written  in  hopes  that  tht  tragic 
story  of  the  Buffalo,  which  so  closely 
parallels  that  of  the  red  man,  may 
awaken  both  your  interest  and  your 
sympathy,  so  that  you  may  help  in  the 
work  of  our  society  in  reclaiming  the 
King  of  the  Plains  for  the  North 
American  continent 


INTRODUCTORY.    THE  KINO  OF  THE 
PLAINS 11 

I.  CROSSING  THE  GREAT  PLAINS    .       .      31 

II.  THE  THUNDERING  HERD    ...      53 

III.  LITTLE  BIGHEAD        ....      87 

IV.  A  STRANGE  BIDE       .       .       .       .127 
V.  THE  NEW  KING 163 

VL  THE  BIGHT  OF  WAY  ....    195 

VH.  Boors  AND  SADDLES  .       .       .       .231 

VHL  THE  LAST  PISKUN       ....    265 

DL  THE  LAND  OF  THE  MUSKEG  287 


HE  SET  His  TEETH  AND  GRIPPED  THE 
BUFFALO  WITH  His  LEGS  .        .        Frontispiece 


THE  MAD,  GALLOPING,  SURLY 
HERD  WAS  ALL  ABOUT  THEM  Facing  page 

THE  SEASONED  FIGHTER  DROVE 
BUCK  TO  THE  SIDE  OF  THE 
BUTTE  ...  "  " 

A  MIGHTY  BISON  LOOMED  UP 
DARKLY  AGAINST  THE  MOON  .  "  " 


LIKE  A  FLASH,  THE  CAYUSE  SHOT 
THROUGH  THE  OPENING  . 


.» 


76 


186 


222 


280 


INTRODUCTORY 
THE  KING  OF  THE  PLAINS 


INTRODUCTORY 

THE   KING   OF   THE   PLAINS 

AT  the  opening  of  the  last  century,  and 
even  as  late  as  1871,  when  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroad  cleft  the  great  herds 
asunder,  there  roamed  upon  the  vast 
American  plains,  stretching  from  the  Alle- 
ghany  Mountains  to  the  Rockies,  and  from 
the  Mexican  border  to  the  Hudson  Bay 
country,  probably  the  most  inconceivable 
herd  of  wild  animals  ever  ranging  upon  a 
single  continent.  This  almost  countless 
herd  was  formed  of  hundreds  of  millions  of 
American  bison,  or  buffalo,  as  they  were 
indiscriminately  called. 

The  bison  ranged  even  farther  from  the 
great  plains  than  has  been  indicated,  for  in 
Colonial  times  they  were  found  in  small 
numbers  in  Western  New  York  and  Penn- 


14  Introductory 


sylvania,  while  they  penetrated  through  the 
Rockies  to  the  Cascade  range,  so  that  they 
were  quite  plentiful  in  parts  of  Oregon. 
They  also  crossed  the  border  into  Mexico, 
while  they  frequently  wandered  as  far  north 
as  the  Arctic  circle.  Generally  speaking, 
however,  their  range  was  the  great  American 
plains,  bounded  by  its  eastern  and  western 
mountain  chains,  and  by  the  Mexican  border 
on  the  south,  and  the  Saskatchewan  River 
on  the  north. 

Early  in  the  last  century  Boone,  Crocket, 
and  their  kind,  together  with  other  settlers, 
crossed  the  Alleghany  Mountains  to  the 
eastern  portion  of  the  great  plains,  and  the 
war  upon  the  bison  began.  All  the  buffalo 
that  the  settlers  killed  and  all  that  the 
Indians  could  take  with  their  primitive 
means,  however,  were  not  as  one  grain  of 
sand  from  the  seashore,  so  vast  was  the  herd. 
An  Indian,  in  describing  to  a  white  trapper 
the  prevalence  of  bison  in  a  certain  part  of 


The  King  of  the  Plains  15 

the  west,  said  in  his  picturesque  language 
that  the  country  was  one  buffalo  robe,  from 
East  to  West,  from  North  to  South. 

Even  as  late  as  the  early  seventies,  an 
army  officer  in  riding  through  the  Dakotas 
and  Montana  traveled  for  six  weeks  without 
losing  sight  of  buffalo.  No  matter  whether 
it  was  morning,  midday,  or  evening,  upon 
the  crest  of  a  swell,  or  in  a  coulee,  the  vast 
rolling  plains  were  always  dotted  with 
buffalo.  Buffalo  standing  up  and  lying 
down,  some  eating  grass  and  others  content- 
edly chewing  their  cuds,  but  always  buffalo. 
Another  army  officer  tells  of  his  experience 
farther  south,  in  Arkansas,  where  he  en- 
countered a  portion  of  the  southern  herd. 
This  herd  was  fairly  compact  and  moving 
rapidly,  and  as  near  as  he  could  estimate, 
was  seventy  miles  long,  and  thirty  miles 
wide.  For  three  days  the  bison  galloped  by, 
while  a  squad  of  puny  American  soldiers 
cowered  in  a  sheltering  ravine,  not  daring 


16  Introductory 


to  stir  outside  for  fear  that  they  would  be 
trampled  to  death  under  the  hoofs  of  the 
migrating  herd. 

As  late  as  1874  a  train  upon  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroad  was  held  up  for  nine  hours 
while  a  herd  crossed  the  tracks,  and  this 
was  after  the  war  of  extermination  had  gone 
on  for  several  years,  and  the  herds  had  be- 
come partially  depleted. 

For  twelve  years,  beginning  in  1871,  when 
the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  cut  the  herd  in 
sunder  and  sounded  its  death-knell,  the  war 
went  on.  Millions  of  hides  were  obtained 
each  year,  while  as  many  more  rotted  on 
the  plains  without  being  taken  from  their 
wearers.  No  such  colossal  tragedy  in  the 
animal  kingdom  was  ever  known  upon  a 
single  continent. 

The  bleaching  bones  of  the  bison  were  as 
common  a  sight  upon  the  great  plains  as 
are  the  stones  upon  our  rock-strewn  New 
England  acres.  In  parts  of  the  West  it  has 


The  King  of  the  Plains  17 

been  an  industry  to  collect  these  bones  for 
the  lime  that  they  contain.  A  single  city, 
which  was  headquarters  for  the  shipment  of 
these  white  reminders  of  the  great  herd, 
sent  out  in  a  single  year  the  bones  of  thirty- 
nine  million  bison. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  to-day  there  is 
actually  not  one  bison  where  there  were  a 
million  in  1860  ?  From  being  the  greatest 
herd  of  wild  animals  that  the  world  prob- 
ably ever  saw,  the  bison  have  diminished 
to  a  few  hundred  semi-domesticated  buffalo, 
dwarfed  in  stature  in  many  cases  and  piti- 
ful in  their  numerical  weakness. 

Even  in  the  Yellowstone  Park,  where  the 
government  has  made  every  effort  to  pro- 
tect them,  the  pot  hunter  and  the  lawless 
despoiier  have  pursued  the  poor  bison.  In 
1890  there  were  four  hundred  scattered 
about  the  large  confines  of  the  park,  and 
now,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  govern- 
ment, there  are  barely  a  hundred. 


1 8  Introductory 


To  place  the  entire  number  of  buffalo 
upon  this  continent  to-day,  counting  those 
in  public  parks,  government  reservations, 
those  in  private  domains,  and  a  few  who 
still  range  wild  in  the  region  of  the  Peace 
River,  at  five  hundred  head  would  probably 
be  putting  the  figure  too  high.1 

This  is  the  sorry  story  of  the  American 
bison,  and  when  we  consider  that  this 
slaughter  was  most  of  it  accomplished  in 
twelve  years,  from  1871  to  1883,  we  can  form 
some  idea  of  the  tremendous  tragedy,  the 
like  of  which  has  never  been  seen  before  or 
since. 

First  among  the  causes  that  led  to  the 
extermination  of  the  mighty  host  we  will 
have  to  place  the  coming  of  the  railroad  to 
the  great  plains.  When  those  two  racing 
gangs  of  men,  one  carrying  the  glittering 
rails  east,  and  the  other  west,  met  upon 

1  This  statement  refers  to  conditions  in  1908.     Now  there  are 
about  two  thousand  bison  on  the  North  American  continent. 


The  King  of  the  Plains 19 

the  vast  American  desert,  the  event  sounded 
the  knell  of  the  bison.  The  mighty  herd 
that  had  hitherto  surged  northward  and 
southward,  with  the  change  of  season,  was 
then  cut  asunder,  and  was  never  again 
united. 

Occasionally  trains  were  held  up  on  the 
Union  Pacific  for  half  a  day  while  a  herd 
of  comparatively  few  numbers  crossed  the 
tracks,  but  these  were  small  bands,  when 
compared  with  the  whole  mighty  phalanx, 
and  their  migrations  were  merely  tem- 
porary. 

Before  the  coming  of  the  railroad  there 
had  been  no  object  in  killing  large  numbers 
of  buffalo.  A  man  could  pack  out  only 
half  a  dozen,  or  at  most  a  dozen  skins  upon 
a  pony,  and  as  the  price  was  only  a  dollar 
a  skin,  it  did  not  pay ;  but  when  the  rail- 
road solved  the  transportation  difficultiesy 
and  the  companies  still  paid  a  dollar  per 
robe,  it  was  different.  A  lazy  man  who 


20  Introductory 


did  not  care  to  do  hard  work  could  shoot 
from  forty  to  seventy-five  buffalo  per  day. 
He  could  procure  skinners  who  would 
work  very  cheaply,  and  the  railroad  did 
the  rest.  Shortly  after  the  coming  of  the 
Union  Pacific  to  the  great  plains,  the  south- 
ern herd  was  split  by  another  railroad,  and 
all  its  favorite  feeding-grounds  thrown  open 
to  the  hunters.  Then  the  slaughter  began. 
Buffalo  robes  were  seen  piled  up  at  all  the 
stations  along  the  road,  like  cord-wood,  and 
they  were  shipped  east  by  carloads.  Buffalo 
bones  became  as  common  upon  the  plains 
as  the  bison  themselves  had  been  before. 
It  took  only  about  three  years  for  the 
hordes  of  hunters  and  the  railroads  to 
slaughter  the  southern  herds.  But  a  few 
survivors  could  be  found  upon  the  outly- 
ing deserts  of  Texas  in  the  late  seventies. 

In  connection  with  the  slaughter  of  the 
southern  herd,  a  very  remarkable  incident 
in  specialization  was  noted,  which  illus- 


The  King  of  the  Plains  21 

trates  how  rapidly  nature  can  work  when 
she  is  obliged  to.  Old  hunters  in  Texas  re- 
ported in  about  1875  that  a  new  species  of 
buffalo  had  appeared  in  the  state.  They 
were  taller  and  longer  legged,  and  did  not 
ever  become  fat  like  the  old  species.  Some 
of  the  hunters  said  that  this  new  buffalo 
had  come  up  from  Mexico,  but  the  truth 
was  at  last  discovered.  This  was  merely 
a  new  form  of  the  same  harassed  old  spe- 
cies, adapting  itself  to  new  conditions.  The 
bison  was  now  so  continually  upon  the 
run  that  he  did  not  have  time  to  get  fat, 
while  this  tended  also  to  develop  the  length 
of  his  legs,  and  his  speed.  Thus  in  fifteen 
or  twenty  years,  under  this  high  pressure, 
nature  created  what  old  hunters  had  deemed 
a  new  species  of  buffalo. 

The  northern  herd  which  inhabited  more 
difficult  country  to  hunt  held  its  own  better, 
and  was  not  wholly  slaughtered  until  about 
1883.  Here  also  rapid  specialization  was 


22  Introductory 


noted,  for  the  remnants  of  this  herd  took  to 
the  mountains  and  became  almost  as  expert 
mountain  climbers  as  the  bighorn  sheep. 
So  marked  was  this  characteristic  of  these 
bison  after  a  few  years  that  they  were  also 
set  off  in  a  class  by  themselves,  being  called 
the  Mountain  Bison. 

The  mountain-climbing  accomplishments 
of  these  harassed  buffalo  were  almost  be- 
yond belief.  To  see  a  buffalo  bull  who 
would  weigh  nearly  two  thousand  pounds 
going  up  an  almost  perpendicular  cliff  like 
a  Rocky  Mountain  sheep  was  a  not  uncom- 
mon sight.  The  few  now  living  in  the 
Yellowstone  Park  inhabit  the  mountains 
almost  entirely  and  so  are  rarely  seen  by 
travelers,  or  even  by  hunters. 

In  the  destruction  of  the  northern  herd 
the  steamboats  plying  up  and  down  the 
Missouri  River  played  an  important  part. 
Here  again  upon  the  docks  at  the  different 
towns  along  the  river  bank,  robes  were  piled 


The  King  of  the  Plains  23 

high,  just  as  they  had  been  upon  the  station 
platforms  along  the  southern  railroads. 

From  point  to  point  the  poor  bison  were 
driven,  taking  refuge  in  one  fastness  after 
another,  only  to  be  hunted  out  at  last  and 
pushed  farther  on  into  the  wilderness, 
finally  to  disappear  entirely  from  the  conti- 
nent where  once  they  had  been  as  the 
grains  of  sand  upon  the  seashore. 

One  of  the  last  slaughters  was  perpetrated 
by  the  government  itself.  After  General 
Ouster's  wholesale  defeat  in  the  battle  of 
the  Little  Big-horn,  the  government  decided 
that  the  only  way  to  subdue  the  Indian 
was  to  destroy  his  means  of  subsistence. 
Accordingly,  the  bison  were  followed  by  the 
troopers  into  their  last  strongholds  and 
while  wallowing  belly-deep  in  the  snow, 
were  shot  down  by  the  thousands. 

Finally  a  few  scattered  bands,  fragments 
of  the  great  herds,  crossed  the  borders  of 
the  United  States  into  what  is  now  the 


24  Introductory 


Canadian  Northwest,  but  even  here  the  set- 
tlers took  toll  of  them  as  they  went,  so  that 
to-day  buffalo  bones  are  almost  as  much  a 
landmark  on  the  prairies  of  Saskatchewan 
as  in  Montana.  Farther  and  farther  north 
the  poor  fugitives  fled,  putting  on  longer, 
thicker  coats  as  they  went,  to  meet  the  rigor 
of  the  northern  climate,  until  to-day  per- 
haps a  hundred  bison,  known  as  the  Wood 
Buffalo,  are  to  be  found  in  the  Peace  River 
district  of  Athabasca,  the  humiliated  Lord 
of  the  Plains  taking  refuge  in  the  lonely 
land  of  the  Muskeg. 

To  the  Indian  the  buffalo  was  not  only 
the  staff  of  life,  being  his  most  easily  ob- 
tainable meat  for  the  entire  year,  but  also 
out  of  his  massive  hulk  came  nearly  all  of 
the  red  man's  utensils,  his  weapons,  his 
garments  and  his  shelter.  So  was  it  any 
wonder  that  the  Pawnees  said  that  "  through 
the  bison  and  the  corn  we  worship  the 
father,"  or  that  in  some  way  the  buffalo  en- 


The  King  of  the  Plains  25 

tered  into  the  religious  ceremonies  of  nearly 
all  the  plain  Indians?  The  members  of 
the  deer  family  were  whimsical,  often 
changing  their  feeding-grounds,  but  the 
bison  could  always  be  found  upon  the  great 
plains. 

In  the  early  primitive  days  the  Indian 
stalked  the  bison  on  foot,  but  later  when 
he  became  possessed  of  firearms  and  ponies, 
he  resorted  to  the  more  exciting  sport  of 
hunting  on  horseback.  So  skilful  was  the 
red  man  with  his  bow,  that  he  has  been 
known  to  send  an  arrow  through  two 
buffaloes,  who  were  running  side  by  side. 

But  when  there  was  a  large  tribe  of 
several  hundred  lodges  to  feed,  the  piskun 
was  resorted  to.  This  manner  of  killing 
buffalo  is  described  later  in  the  story. 

Piles  of  buffalo  bones  upon  the  plains  are 
frequently  found  even  to-day,  marking  the 
site  of  some  old  piskun. 

But  the  red  man  rarely  killed  more  buf- 


26  Introductory 


falo  than  he  could  use,  and  you  will  readily 
believe  this  when  I  enumerate  the  things 
for  which  these  wild  plains  cattle  were 
used. 

The  robe  was  the  Indian's  winter  blanket, 
and  the  skin  freed  from  hair  his  summer 
covering  or  sheet.  The  dressed  hide  was 
made  into  all  kinds  of  clothing.  Dressed 
cow  skins  covered  the  lodges  which  formed 
a  lighter  and  warmer  shelter  than  the  white 
man  has  ever  been  able  to  invent. 

Braided  strips  of  rawhide  made  them 
ropes  and  lines,  smaller  cords  were  also 
made  from  the  braided  hair. 

Cannon-bones  and  ribs  were  used  to  make 
implements  to  dress  hides.  Shoulder-blades 
lashed  to  sticks  made  axes  and  hoes.  The 
ribs  furnished  runners  for  small  sleds.  The 
green  hide  was  often  used  as  a  kettle  in 
which  to  boil  meat.  If  they  stretched  it 
over  boughs,  it  made  a  small  boat  for  cross- 
ing rivers.  The  tough  hide  from  the  bull's 


The  King  of  the  Plains  27 

neck  stretched  over  a  frame  made  a  shield 
which  would  turn  arrows  or  a  lance  thrust. 

From  the  hoofs,  glue  was  made  just  as  the 
white  man  manufactures  it,  and  the  Indian 
used  it  to  fasten  the  heads  and  feathers 
upon  his  arrows. 

Hair  was  used  to  stuff  cushions  and  later 
on,  when  the  Indians  became  more  civi- 
lized, saddles.  The  long  black  beard  under 
the  bull's  chin  furnished  strands  of  hair  to 
ornament  shields  and  quivers. 

Horns  were  fashioned  into  spoons  and 
ladles  and  drinking-cups,  and  also  orna- 
mented their  war-bonnets.  The  lining  of 
the  paunch  was  fashioned  into  a  water 
bucket.  The  skin  of  the  hind  leg  cut  off 
at  the  hock  and  again  at  the  pastern  was 
used  for  a  moccasin  or  rude  boot. 

Fly-brushes,  gun-covers,  saddle-cloths,  bow 
cases,  quivers  and  knife-sheaths,  and  scores 
of  other  useful  things  were  all  furnished  by 
the  bison,  none  of  whose  huge  hulk  went 


28  Introductory 


to  waste  in  the  hands  of  the  ingenious  In- 
dian. 

Gone  are  the  old  days  and  ways.  The 
bison  has  entirely  disappeared  from  the 
plains,  and  the  Indian  is  confined  to  his 
reservations.  The  vast  herds  that  swarmed 
the  plains  whose  numbers  were  like  the 
stars  are  now  almost  entirely  extinct. 
Cattle  have  taken  their  places  in  the  Bad 
Lands  which  were  their  last  grazing- 
grounds,  an  extensive  agriculture  has  cov- 
ered the  great  plains  with  wheat  and  corn, 
and  this  is  probably  for  the  best. 

The  bison  was  the  red  man's  beef;  when 
he  disappeared  and  the  white  man  came, 
there  was  no  longer  the  urgent  need  for  his 
existence.  Cattle  were  better  suited  to  the 
needs  of  the  whites,  and  both  herds  could 
not  graze  upon  the  same  pasture-lands. 

But  to  all  those  who  love  nature  in  her 
wild,  primitive  state,  who  love  the  barbarity 
and  the  grandeur  of  untamed  life,  there 


The  King  of  the  Plains  29 

will  ever  be  a  fascination  in  thinking  of 
the  thundering  herd  that  shook  the  plains 
like  an  earthquake  in  its  passing,  now  gone 
forever.  To  such  there  will  always  come 
wistful  thoughts  of  the  old  days  when  the 
King  of  the  Plains  reigned  over  the  greatest 
kingdom  ever  vouchsafed  to  a  wild  beast. 


CHAPTER  I 
CROSSING  THE  GREAT  PLAINS 


The  King  of  the  Thundering 
Herd 


CHAPTER  I 

CROSSING   THE   GREAT   PLAINS 

BENNIE  ANDERSON  sat  on  the  lee  side  of 
the  prairie  schooner,  watching  the  dancing 
camp-fire,  and  listening  to  the  howling  of 
the  coyotes. 

Three  months  before,  this  diabolical, 
many-keyed  chorus  that  came  from  a  dis- 
tant butte,  would  have  filled  him  with  ter- 
ror, but  now  it  had  no  fears  for  him.  He 
was  getting  used  to  the  sights  and  sounds 
of  the  frontier,  for  he  was  a  pioneer,  going 
into  the  wild,  desolate  country  with  the  rest 
of  the  family  in  search  of  a  new  home. 


34     The  Kind  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Three  months  before  he  would  have  said 
that  this  babel  of  sound,  rising  and  falling 
upon  the  prairie  stillness,  was  made  by  at 
least  fifty  coyotes.  There  were  voices,  high- 
keyed  and  low-keyed,  mournful  and  pa- 
thetic, wavering  and  quavering,  as  though 
these  small  wolves  were  holding  a  wake  for 
a  beloved  comrade.  But  Bennie  now  knew, 
thanks  to  his  father's  teachings,  that  this 
night  chorus  was  probably  made  by  a  pair 
of  coyotes  who  were  serenading  the  moon 
according  to  their  night  custom. 

This  watching  the  bright  camp-fire  was  a 
favorite  pastime  of  the  boy's  and  was  what 
he  had  done  every  night  since  they  had 
started  upon  this  wonderful  journey.  The 
camp-fire  was  full  of  pictures  that  came  and 
went  with  the  dancing  flames.  Besides, 
there  was  companionship  in  the  camp-fire 
and  protection  from  the  many  dangers  of 
the  desolate  prairies  that  encompassed 
them. 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  35 

Four  months  before  the  Anderson  fam- 
ily, consisting  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anderson, 
Thomas,  a  boy  of  nine  years,  and  the  soli- 
tary watcher  by  the  camp-fire,  named  Ben- 
jamin, aged  eleven  years,  had  said  good-bye 
to  Indiana. 

Ill  luck  had  always  followed  the  Ander- 
sons in  that  state,  and  Bennie's  father  had 
said  that  perhaps  a  change  of  scene  would 
also  change  their  luck.  So  nearly  all  their 
belongings  had  been  packed  into  the  can- 
vas-covered wagon,  two  dilapidated  mules 
hitched  to  it.  the  old  cow  tied  behind,  and 
with  the  dog  following  beneath  the  wagon 
or  capering  about  as  best  suited  his  fancy, 
they  had  left  the  tumble-down  cabin  and 
the  Indiana  homestead,  and  had  started  for 
the  frontier  beyond  the  Mississippi.  In  the 
same  manner  their  ancestors  had  left  West- 
ern New  York,  and  started  for  the  Middle 
West  two  generations  before. 

You  must  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that 


36     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

this  was  in  1910,  for  it  was  not.  Had  it 
been  the  twentieth  century,  they  would 
have  gone  upon  a  train,  and  there  would 
have  been  no  wild  frontier  in  what  is  now 
Nebraska  and  Dakota.  But  it  was  in  1871, 
that  eventful  summer  when  those  two 
racing  gangs  of  men  carried  the  approach- 
ing sections  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad 
to  a  splendid  completion,  and  spiked  down 
the  last  gleaming  rail  of  a  system  that 
spanned  a  continent. 

It  was  a  summer  when  great  things  were 
in  the  air,  events  far-reaching  in  their  con- 
sequences to  the  vast  plains,  and  perhaps 
the  boy  of  eleven  years  vaguely  felt  them 
as  he  sat  brooding  by  the  camp-fire. 

Anyhow,  it  had  been  a  wonderful  sum- 
mer to  him,  and  he  was  fond  of  think- 
ing over  all  the  strange  objects  that  he 
had  seen,  as  he  watched  the  flames  leap 
high,  or  the  embers  of  the  camp-fire  slowly 
die  out.  His  life  hitherto  had  been  so  un- 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  37 

eventful  and  he  had  seen  so  little  of  the 
world  that  even  now  it  seemed  more  like  a 
strange  dream  than  a  stirring  reality,  and  it 
would  not  have  much  astonished  Bennie  to 
have  suddenly  awakened  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  back  in  his  bed  in  the  loft  of  the 
log-cabin  in  Indiana. 

It  had  been  a  very  late,  cold  spring, 
with  raw  winds  and  drizzling  rains,  but  at 
last  Chinnook  had  come  out  of  the  south 
and  breathed  over  the  prairies  and  all  had 
been  changed  as  by  magic. 

The  birds  began  singing  as  though  they 
would  split  their  throats,  and  through  the 
waiting  earth  went  that  instantaneous 
thrill,  seen  in  a  few  hours,  in  springing  grass 
and  opening  buds,  and  in  the  gracious 
warmth  of  the  sun.  The  coming  of  Chin- 
nook  had  been  agreed  upon  as  the  signal 
for  the  start,  so  the  following  day  every- 
thing had  been  made  ready.  Mr.  Ander- 
derson  had  cracked  the  whip  over  the  backs 


38     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

of  the  two  rusty  mules  and  the  strange 
procession,  old  Brindle  bringing  up  the 
rear,  had  started  upon  its  long  trip  across 
what  was  then,  for  at  least  a  part  of  the 
way,  a  wild  and  desolate  country. 

All  the  exultant  sounds  of  spring  were  in 
the  air.  The  hoarse,  glad  cry  of  the  wood- 
cock was  heard  in  the  bottom-lands,  and 
the  more  rasping  note  of  the  jack-snipe 
came  up  from  the  marshes.  Killdeer 
whistled  in  the  uplands;  the  cardinal  ex- 
ulted in  the  sumac ;  and  many  a  shy  little 
songster  greeted  the  passers-by  from  bram- 
ble or  thicket. 

The  swift-moving  wedge  of  wild  geese 
went  honking  by  overhead  ;  and  though  the 
sound  was  not  musical,  it  was  exultant,  and 
stirred  the  blood  like  a  bugle-call  to  arms. 
The  long-legged  sand-hill  crane  wheeled  in 
the  upper  air,  and  the  sun  was  often  fairly 
darkened  with  scudding  flocks  of  chatter- 
ing wood-pigeons. 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  39 

The  ducks  too  were  all  winging  their 
way  northward  to  their  summer  breeding- 
grounds,  and  they  could  be  seen  at  morn- 
ing and  evening  feeding  in  all  the  bayous 
and  lagoons,  and  upon  the  slow  running 
creeks  that,  fringed  with  small  cotton- 
woods,  wound  in  and  out  through  the  low- 
lands. There  were  many  kinds  of  ducks, 
some  of  them,  like  the  Harlequin  and  the 
wood  duck,  gay  in  their  brilliant  plumage, 
while  others  were  more  sober  in  grays  and 
browns.  But  among  the  social  company 
which  gabbled  as  they  fed  were  goodly 
mallards,  and  red-eyes,  yellow-eyes  and 
canvass-backs,  all  fat  from  their  sojourn  in 
the  South  where  there  was  the  very  best  of 
living  just  to  be  had  for  the  taking. 

Mr.  Anderson  was  an  old  hunter,  and  as 
there  were  two  rifles  in  the  wagon,  not  to 
mention  an  old  shotgun,  there  was  usually 
plenty  of  fresh  duck  or  prairie  chicken  to 
eat.  The  rivers  swarmed  with  fish  which 


40     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

were  also  added  to  the  menu  of  the  Ander- 
sons. 

Bennie  was  particularly  fond  of  fishing 
and  hunting,  and  as  the  smaller  of  the  two 
rifles  was  his,  he  did  his  share  in  keeping 
the  larder  well  filled. 

Prairie  chickens  were  easily  located  at 
this  time  of  the  year,  as  the  cocks  were 
much  in  evidence,  standing  about  upon 
conspicuous  hillocks,  swelling  out  their 
ruffs  and  sending  their  booming  love- 
notes  far  across  the  rolling  prairies.  At 
such  times  it  was  a  fairly  easy  matter  to 
stalk  them,  if  one  did  not  mind  crawling  a 
dozen  rods  or  so  upon  his  belly. 

But  the  sweetest  of  all  the  sounds  heard 
upon  the  broad,  rolling  prairies, — one  that 
always  came  with  the  first  rays  of  the  sun 
in  the  east, — was  the  tumultuous  outpour- 
ing of  the  prairie  larks,  the  sweetest  of  all 
the  western  singers.  This  brown  bunch  of 
gladness  would  mount  up  into  the  cloudless 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  41 

sky  until  it  was  no  longer  visible,  pouring 
out  its  joyous  song  as  it  went.  Long  after 
it  had  been  lost  sight  of,  one  could  still  hear 
the  wonderful  rhapsody,  clear  as  crystal, 
and  as  persistent  as  the  sound  of  a  fountain, 
pouring  down  through  the  clear  morning 
air.  Even  in  Illinois,  before  they  crossed 
the  Mississippi,  and  came  into  the  domain 
of  the  buffalo,  evidences  of  the  great  herds 
could  be  discovered,  for  there  was  still  oc- 
casionally to  be  found  the  plain  outlines 
of  a  buffalo-wallow  that  the  plough  had 
skipped,  or  the  slight  traces  of  some  old 
bison  trail  through  parts  of  the  prairie  that 
had  been  latest  claimed  by  the  plough. 
But  in  the  main  all  signs  of  the  King  of  the 
Plains  had  disappeared  east  of  the  Missis- 
sippi River. 

It  must  not  be  imagined,  however,  that 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  prairies  were 
all  that  claimed  the  attention  of  the  two 
Anderson  boys  on  this  remarkable  trip. 


42     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Their  Indiana  home  had  been  located  in 
an  out-of-the-way  portion  of  one  of  the 
most  sparsely  settled  counties  of  the  Hoosier 
State,  so  Bennie  had  seen  very  little  of  the 
outside  world. 

To  him  the  towns  and  cities  that  they 
passed  through  were  all  like  wonderland. 
He  had  never  even  seen  a  train  until  this 
trip. 

Illinois  was  not  then  a  lacework  of  rail- 
roads as  it  is  now,  and  many  of  the  farmers 
still  drew  their  wheat  fifteen  or  twenty 
miles  to  the  nearest  depot.  Corn  had  not 
then  entirely  supplanted  wheat,  so  that  the 
state  was  not  one  waving  corn-field  as  it  is 
to-day. 

But  it  was  the  plan  of  Mr.  Anderson  to 
avoid  the  larger  towns  and  cities,  and  to 
keep  to  the  country,  where  there  was  more 
hospitality  and  kindness  for  emigrants  like 
themselves. 

The   crossing    of    the  great   Mississippi 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  43 

River  upon  a  splendid  bridge  was  a  never- 
to-be-forgotten  event  to  the  boys,  and  when 
a  section  of  the  bridge  was  swung  round  to 
let  a  steamboat  pass  through,  their  astonish- 
ment knew  no  bounds. 

Finally  the  towns  and  cities  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi valley  were  gradually  left  behind 
and  the  slow-moving  canvas-covered  wagon, 
going  at  the  snail's  pace  set  by  old  Brindle, 
got  out  of  civilization  into  the  Bad  Lands 
of  Northern  Missouri. 

Here  there  was  an  unending  variety  of 
scenery,  and  every  day  brought  some  new 
animal  or  remarkable  feature  of  the  land- 
scape to  Bennie's  observing  eyes. 

Among  his  most  cherished  possessions 
was  a  very  good  field-glass,  which  had  been 
the  property  of  an  uncle  who  had  used  it  in 
the  Civil  War.  This  glass  proved  to  be  the 
boy's  best  ally  upon  the  great  plains,  where 
the  stretches  of  smooth  land  are  so  vast,  and 
the  distances  so  great,  that  the  naked  eye  is 


44     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

wholly  inadequate  to  the  demands  made 
upon  it,  especially  if  one  wants  to  see  all  the 
wild  life  upon  the  plains  as  Bennie  did. 

Strangest  of  the  features  of  the  landscape 
were  the  buttes,  queer  little  hills  rising 
sharply  from  the  plains  to  an  altitude  of 
fifty  to  one  hundred  feet.  Sometimes,  in 
the  drier  portions  of  the  plains  they  were 
quite  barren,  but  in  other  places  they  were 
rather  luxuriant.  Many  of  them  showed 
rock  formation,  and  some  were  so  fantastic  as 
to  suggest  that  they  had  been  made  by  man. 

Then  there  were  the  small  canyons, — great 
cracks  from  ten  to  fifty  feet  wide,  running 
through  the  plains  for  miles.  Their  team 
was  often  obliged  to  follow  such  a  depression 
for  a  long  time  before  finding  a  place  where 
they  could  cross  to  the  other  side.  Perhaps 
there  was  a  creek  at  the  bottom  of  the 
canyon,  or  maybe  it  was  quite  dry  and 
dusty.  If  the  ravine  was  wooded  and  con- 
tained water,  it  was  called  a  coulee. 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  45 

The  watercourses,  which  usually  con- 
sisted of  sluggish  creeks,  could  always  be 
seen  a  long  way  off,  by  small  cotton  woods 
that  usually  fringed  them.  The  water 
problem  was  often  a  very  serious  one  upon 
the  parched,  desert-like  portions  of  the 
prairie,  and  on  two  occasions  they  were 
obliged  to  travel  for  half  the  night  before 
coming  to  water.  It  was  always  necessary 
to  camp  by  a  creek  so  that  they  could  have 
water  for  both  man  and  beast. 

Deer  and  bear  were  quite  plentiful  in  the 
Missouri  Bad  Lands,  and  the  boys  were  al- 
ways upon  the  lookout  for  game  of  any  sort, 
partly  because  they  could  call  the  attention 
of  their  father  to  it,  and  thus  secure  fresh 
meat  for  their  larder,  and  also  because  they 
enjoyed  the  excitement.  Their  young  eyes, 
especially  those  of  Bennie,  soon  became 
very  sharp  to  spy  out  game.  The  field- 
glass,  in  the  use  of  which  he  soon  became 
expert,  always  stood  him  in  good  stead 


46     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

for  seeing  things  on  the  vast  plains.  He 
soon  learned  to  spy  out  the  antelope  as  they 
fed  or  scurried  over  the  smooth  prairies. 
Of  all  the  members  of  the  deer  family,  this 
is  the  shyest,  and  the  hardest  to  approach, 
and  try  as  they  would,  neither  Mr.  Anderson 
nor  Bennie  could  kill  an  antelope.  The 
animal's  stratagem  was  always  to  keep  the 
hunter  in  sight.  They  did  not  much  care 
if  you  saw  them,  provided  they  also  saw 
you,  but  they  were  pretty  sure  to  keep 
a  half  a  mile  between  you  and  them.  So  as 
soon  as  you  approached  too  near,  they  were 
off  like  the  wind,  running  as  only  an 
antelope  can.  Through  the  glass  Bennie 
could  see  them  quite  plainly  and  their 
brindle  faces,  their  large  bulging  eyes,  and 
their  graceful  pronged  horns  gave  them  a 
queer  look.  The  antelope  is  the  only 
member  of  the  deer  family  with  hollow 
horns,  and  they  shed  them  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  flat  horn  varieties. 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  47 

On  one  occasion  Bennie  observed  some 
queer  maneuvres  by  about  twenty  antelope, 
who  were  galloping  to  and  fro  like  wild 
horses.  Suddenly  they  would  all  stop  and 
stand  stock  still,  each  with  his  head  held  in 
the  same  position.  Then  of  one  accord  they 
were  off  running  side  by  side,  or  in  file 
as  the  case  might  be,  until  they  were  again 
suddenly  halted  by  their  leader.  Sometimes 
they  would  turn  upon  a  pivot,  wheeling 
like  cavalry,  to  go  off  like  the  wind  in  a 
new  direction.  These  strange  tactics  they 
kept  up  for  nearly  an  hour,  until  the 
schooner  was  out  of  sight  of  them. 

In  many  of  the  slopes  of  the  rolling  plains 
there  were  towns  of  prairie  dogs,  queer  little 
chaps  about  the  size  of  a  half-grown  wood- 
chuck,  and  looking  something  like  a  small 
chucky.  If  the  team  went  too  near  to  their 
town,  they  would  set  up  a  great  yelping  and 
barking,  each  sitting  upon  his  tail  near  his 
hole,  and  at  the  sound  of  a  gun,  all  would 


48     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

go  scurrying  in  like  a  flash.  It  is  almost 
impossible  to  shoot  one  and  get  him.  Even 
when  mortally  wounded,  he  will  wriggle 
into  his  hole. 

The  prairie  dog  town  is  constantly  en- 
larged on  the  outside,  and  so  in  time  the 
holes  at  the  heart  of  the  town  become  de- 
serted. The  boys  finally  discovered  that 
these  deserted  holes  were  occupied  by 
queer  little  owls,  who  would  stand  by  their 
front  doors  winking  and  blinking  in  the 
blazing  sunlight.  These  empty  dog-burrows 
were  also  inhabited  by  rattlesnakes,  whose 
ugly  lengths  could  be  plainly  seen  through 
the  glass,  coiled  up  basking  in  the  sun- 
light. 

There  were  also  now  many  signs  of  the 
buffalo : — gleaming  skulls  and  huge  skele- 
tons that  told  their  sad  story,  as  well  as  oc- 
casionally a  real  live  bison  ;  but  of  these  I 
will  speak  in  the  following  chapter. 

Of  birds  there  were  not  so  many  as  there 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  49 

had  been  in  Indiana.  The  black,  scolding 
magpie,  first  cousin  to  the  whiskey  jack, 
was  much  in  evidence,  and  ducks  were 
frequently  seen  along  the  creeks  by  the 
cottonwoods. 

One  evening  they  surprised  an  old  duck 
and  her  brood,  ten  tiny  little  corks,  bob- 
bing about  upon  the  water.  They  were 
as  buoyant  as  bubbles,  but  the  Andersons 
did  not  have  long  to  watch  them,  for  the 
old  duck  soon  led  them  away  into  the 
reeds. 

Other  birds  there  were  whose  names  the 
boys  did  not  know.  These  were  pecking 
away  upon  the  wild  plums,  or  eating  weed- 
seeds,  but  all  seemed  quite  sociable,  and 
not  a  bit  wild. 

At  first  Bennie  had  been  almost  terrified 
at  the  vast  stretches  of  brown,  sear  plains,  so 
silent  and  so  lifeless  that  it  seemed  as 
though  there  was  not  a  living  thing  upon 
them.  Sometimes  the  Andersons  would 


50     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

travel  for  hours,  without  seeing  a  sign  of 
life  unless  the  glass  was  used,  and  then  they 
merely  noted  some  brown  spots  upon  the 
far-away  plains.  The  Spirit  of  the  Plains 
was  a  very  silent  and  unapproachable  spirit, 
a  being  that  wandered  without  sound  or 
form,  without  color,  or  any  perceptible 
shape,  yet  brooding  silently  over  all.  You 
always  felt,  rather  than  saw  it, — a  very  ap- 
parent presence,  yet  always  eluding  sight 
and  hearing. 

It  deceived  your  eyes  in  regard  to  distance 
upon  the  plains,  and  it  caused  sound  to 
travel  very  far.  It  laid  a  weird  spell  upon 
all  things.  It  was  a  new  experience  to  the 
Andersons,  but  gradually  all  came  to  love 
the  spirit  of  the  desert,  and  to  miss  it  when 
they  passed  again  into  the  broken  Bad 
Lands. 

All  these  things  and  many  more  Bennie 
saw  each  night  as  he  gazed  into  the  danc- 
ing camp-fire,  and  it  was  like  living  each 


Crossing  the  Great  Plains  51 

day  over  again  in  the  mysterious  evening. 
Somehow  he  could  not  blot  them  out,  and 
they  would  come  in  spite  of  him  ; — the  vast 
stretches  of  rolling  prairies,  the  antelope, 
the  coyotes,  like  those  that  were  now 
making  the  night  hideous ;  the  bleaching 
buffalo  bones,  the  buttes,  the  canyons,  the 
cottonwoods,  the  cloudless  blue  sky,  intense 
and  pitiless.  All  came  and  went  in  the 
dancing  firelight. 

"  Benjamin,  Benjamin,"  called  the  boy's 
mother,  thrusting  her  head  out  of  a  slit  in 
the  canvas.  "  You  stop  dreaming  and  come 
to  bed  this  minute." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  replied  the  boy,  heaving 
a  deep  sigh.  "I  am  coming." 

The  dreams  in  the  dancing  camp-fire  were 
so  much  more  pleasant  than  those  in  the 
schooner  that  he  hated  to  leave  them.  But 
his  mother's  word  was  law,  so  after  putting 
a  little  more  fuel  upon  the  fire,  he  climbed 
into  the  wagon,  where  the  boys  and  their 


52     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

mother  slept,  and  was  soon  peacefully 
snoring,  while  the  coyotes  outside  still  kept 
up  their  dismal  song  to  the  new  moon  as  it 
sailed  over  a  distant  butte. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  THUNDERING  HERD 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  THUNDERING  HERD 

THE  modest  Anderson  caravan  had  not 
journeyed  far  into  the  Missouri  Bad  Lands, 
at  right  angles  to  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  which 
so  many  adventurers  had  followed  before 
and  have  since,  before  the  signs  of  buffalo 
became  very  plentiful,  although  the  boys 
did  not  at  first  recognize  them. 

The  first  buffalo  trail  that  they  discovered 
greatly  astonished  the  boys  and  gave  them 
some  idea  of  the  immense  numbers  of  bison 
that  must  have  traveled  that  way,  to  wear 
it  so  deep  in  the  soil. 

It  was  a  well-defined  path  leading  from 
one  feeding-ground  to  another,  or  perhaps 
to  the  salt-lick,  or  to  water.  So  many 
hoofs  had  passed  that  way  that  the  trail 


56     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

was  worn  two  feet  deep  into  the  soil,  and 
where  the  earth  was  particularly  soft,  it  was 
three  feet  deep.  Some  old  buffalo  trails 
are  frequently  seen  in  soft  places,  where 
the  backs  of  the  buffalo  would  have  just 
shown  above  the  earth  as  they  traveled. 

Then  there  were  trees,  cottonwoods  usu- 
ally, that  had  been  so  persistently  rubbed 
against  in  years  gone  by  that  the  bark  was 
all  worn  off,  and  in  some  cases  the  trees 
were  nearly  dead  from  the  continual  fric- 
tion. 

If  a  boulder  could  be  found  which  stood 
three  or  four  feet  above  the  ground,  that 
also  made  a  good  rubbing-post,  and  around 
such  stones  the  ground  would  be  trodden 
down  until  a  path  was  made  three  feet  deep. 

One  writer  tells  of  the  great  annoyance 
that  the  railroads  experienced  when  they 
first  came  into  the  country,  through  the 
continual  rubbing  of  the  buffalo  upon  the 
telegraph  poles.  Finally  a  section  boss  said 


The  Thundering  Herd  57 

he  would  put  a  stop  to  it ;  so  he  filled  sev- 
eral poles  with  spikes.  Examinations  of 
these  particular  poles  a  few  days  later 
showed  that  they  had  been  used  much 
more  than  before  the  spikes  were  driven  in, 
the  spike-filled  poles  making  a  fine  curry- 
comb for  the  buffalo.  This  rubbing  process 
is  also  common  among  domestic  cattle,  es- 
pecially in  the  spring,  when  they  are  shed- 
ding their  old  coats.  In  this  season  of  the 
year  the  buffalo's  coat,  which  is  long  and 
thick,  often  hangs  in  shreds  or  matted 
masses  a  foot  or  two  in  length,  and  it  is  to 
get  rid  of  these  encumbrances  that  the 
buffalo  take  to  the  rubbing-posts. 

Then  there  were  the  buffalo-wallows, 
places  fifty  or  sixty  feet  across,  where  the 
bison  had  worn  out  a  sort  of  basin  by  roll- 
ing and  wallowing  in  the  mud.  Sometimes 
these  wallows  were  entirely  dry,  and  often 
they  were  grassed  over,  but  you  could  al- 
ways see  the  ridge  at  the  edge  of  the  wal- 


58     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

low.  Fairy  rings  they  are  also  sometimes 
called  by  the  frontiersman. 

But  the  most  striking  of  all  the  buffalo 
signs  were  the  gleaming  skulls  and  the  pa- 
thetic skeletons  which  the  sun  and  the  rains 
had  polished  white  as  ivory,  and  which 
could  be  seen  for  a  long  distance  on  the 
prairies.  These  grim  reminders  of  the 
great  herd  could  often  be  seen  for  a  mile 
through  the  glass  and  even  half  that  dis- 
tance with  the  naked  eye,  looking  like  a 
faint  white  glimmer. 

One  night  when  it  was  cold  and  chilly 
and  the  Andersons  had  had  to  camp  in  a 
very  forlorn  desert  portion  of  the  prairies, 
far  from  wood  and  unfortunately  also  from 
water,  Mr.  Anderson  came  into  camp  bring- 
ing an  armful  of  buffalo  chips.  These  were 
hard,  dry  cakes  of  buffalo  dung,  that  had 
long  baked  in  the  sun.  The  boys  were 
very  much  astonished,  and  wondered  what 
he  intended  to  do  with  them,  but  they  were 


The  Thundering  Herd 59 

soon  enlightened.  Their  father  arranged 
the  chips  just  as  you  would  faggots  for  a 
camp-fire,  and  soon  had  a  bright  blaze  glow- 
ing. In  addition  to  giving  a  very  fair  blaze, 
they  also  emitted  a  slight  odor,  which  kept 
away  the  mosquitoes.  That  night  the  An- 
dersons not  only  cooked  their  supper  by  the 
fire  from  the  chips,  but  this  fuel  kept  them 
warm  and  made  the  immediate  circle  of 
their  camp-fire  bright  and  cheerful  until 
they  turned  in. 

It  is  noticeable  all  through  nature  that 
fire  and  light,  which  come  from  combus- 
tion, are  symbolic  of  comfort  and  cheer. 
The  sun,  our  source  of  light  and  heat,  is 
the  very  embodiment  of  good  cheer.  How 
dark  and  dismal  the  old  world  becomes 
when  he  hides  his  face.  What  an  exultant 
thrill  runs  through  the  fields  and  forest 
when  he  darts  his  first  rosy  shafts  of  light 
over  the  eastern  hills,  at  once  glorifying  the 
earth.  The  moon  and  the  stars  are  our 


60     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

comfort  by  night,  and  how  depressing  is  a 
moonless,  starless  night.  By  the  light  of 
the  stars  and  the  moon  we  get  some  idea  of 
the  immensity  of  the  universe,  which  even 
the  surpassing  brightness  of  the  sun  does 
not  reveal.  Even  when  we  come  down  to 
the  warmth  and  cheer  of  an  open  fireplace,  or 
better  still  a  camp-fire,  we  see  how  necessary 
to  man's  comfort  are  warmth  and  light. 

The  first  glimpse  that  the  Andersons  had 
of  a  real  live  buffalo  was  just  at  sunset. 
Sunset  and  twilight  come  rather  suddenly 
upon  the  plains,  just  as  they  do  upon  the 
ocean.  The  sober-going  prairie  schooner 
was  plodding  along,  making  the  last  mile 
or  two  before  they  would  camp  for  the 
night,  when  Bennie,  who  was  always  upon 
the  lookout  for  wild  life,  descried  a  massive 
dark  form  clearly  outlined  against  the  sun- 
set sky. 

The  field-glass  was  at  once  brought  into 
play  and  the  distant  object  proved  to  be  a 


The  Thundering  Herd (u 

gigantic  buffalo  bull.  He  was  standing 
chewing  his  cud,  in  a  ruminating  manner, 
and  looking  off  across  the  rolling  prairies 
to  the  distant  sunset,  or  so  it  seemed  to 
the  watchers  with  the  glass. 

Although  he  was  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away,  yet  the  glass  brought  him  quite 
near,  so  that  they  could  study  him  and  get 
a  good  idea  of  just  how  the  King  of  the 
Plains  looked.  His  head  and  shoulders 
were  very  massive,  and  almost  out  of  pro- 
portion to  his  hind-quarters,  but  not  enough 
so  to  look  badly.  A  long  black  beard,  per- 
haps a  foot  in  length,  hung  down  beneath 
his  chops,  while  his  massive  head  was  gen- 
erously ornamented  with  long  dark  curly 
hair  that  nearly  hid  his  large,  ox-like  eyes. 
His  horns  were  short  and  sharp,  and 
slightly  curved  upward,  suggesting  what 
execution  he  could  do  if  he  were  suddenly 
to  throw  up  his  great  head,  and  catch  his 
victim  upon  the  horns. 


62     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

The  hump  upon  his  shoulders  seemed  to 
be  a  natural  sequence  from  his  massive 
head  and  thick  neck,  which  would  need 
just  such  fore-quarters  to  support  them. 
His  hind-quarters  were  rather  slight,  com- 
pared with  his  fore-quarters,  and  were 
adorned  with  a  short,  sparsely-haired  tail, 
which  usually  stuck  straight  up  when  the 
bison  galloped  over  the  plains  at  his  best 
pace. 

The  entire  robe  of  the  King,  aside  from 
the  black  markings,  was  a  deep  rich  brown, 
which  certain  times  of  the  year  has  a  fine 
gloss.  That  the  coat  was  thick  and  warm, 
suitable  to  shield  its  wearer  from  the  most 
extreme  cold,  could  also  be  plainly  seen 
through  the  glass. 

So  well  is  the  buffalo  protected  by  his 
splendid  coat,  that  a  calf  that  was  dropped 
in  Northern  Dakota  in  February,  with  the 
thermometer  forty  below  zero,  did  not  seem 
to  mind  the  cold  reception  that  he  had  at 


The  Thundering  Herd  63 

the  hands  of  nature  upon  his  appearance  in 
the  world. 

It  was  a  never-to-be-forgotten  picture,  of 
the  old  King  standing  upon  the  crest  of  a 
distant  swell,  chewing  his  cud,  while  the 
westering  sun  surrounded  him  with  a  halo 
and  painted  the  sky  above  him  in  most 
gorgeous  colors.  The  boys  gazed  at  him 
with  wondering  eyes  until  the  after-glow 
faded,  and  the  dark  figure  on  the  crest  of  the 
swell  was  merged  in  the  gathering  gloom. 

The  next  glimpse  of  the  bison  was  like- 
wise just  at  dusk.  They  had  turned  out  of 
their  course,  going  nearly  five  miles  to  the 
south  for  wood  and  water.  These  they 
found  upon  the  banks  of  a  broad  brawling 
river,  which  proved  to  be  none  other  than 
the  Missouri.  At  this  point  it  was  lined 
by  high  bluffs,  partially  wooded.  On  the 
northern  bank,  from  which  the  Andersons 
approached,  the  slope  was  gradual  as  the 
country  fell  away  to  the  river  for  half  a 


64     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

mile,  but  on  the  bank  across,  which  was 
the  Kansas  side,  it  was  much  more  precipi- 
tate, there  probably  being  one  hundred  feet 
fall  to  three  hundred  feet  slope,  which 
made  it  very  steep.  Here  the  banks  were 
not  wooded,  but  composed  of  sand  and 
small  cobblestones,  the  work  of  the  water 
for  countless  ages,  with  here  and  there  a 
large  boulder. 

Just  as  the  wagon  reached  the  northern 
bank,  a  buffalo  bull  came  out  upon  the  top 
of  the  bluff  at  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
and,  after  looking  down  the  steep  descent 
for  a  few  seconds,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
watching  emigrants  on  the  other  side,  began 
slowly  to  descend. 

The  bank  was  so  steep  that  it  almost 
seemed  as  though  he  would  be  pitched 
headlong,  but  he  dug  in  his  hoofs,  and 
went  sliding  and  slipping  for  fifteen  or 
twenty  feet,  carrying  down  a  small  ava- 
lanche of  sand  and  cobblestones  with  him. 


The  Thundering  Herd  65 

At  the  first  convenient  projection  he  stopped 
to  rest,  and  to  pick  out  the  best  going  for 
the  next  twenty  feet.  Then  he  would 
slowly  start,  slipping  and  sliding  again. 

At  last  by  dint  of  many  stops,  he  reached 
a  point  within  fifty  feet  of  the  bottom,  but 
the  rest  of  the  way  was  very  steep,  and 
here  he  paused,  uncertain  what  to  do  next. 
Finally  he  concluded  that  the  only  thing 
to  do  was  to  go  on,  so  with  a  grand  slip  and 
a  slide  that  carried  down  tons  of  earth  with 
him,  he  reached  the  bottom  in  a  cloud  of 
dust. 

Having  attained  his  goal  at  so  much 
labor,  he  seemed  determined  to  get  his 
money's  worth,  so  wallowed  about  in  the 
shallow  water  near  the  shore,  drinking  and 
blowing  the  water  from  his  nose  for  half  an 
hour.  Finally  he  began  slowly  to  ascend 
just  as  he  had  come  down. 

As  in  the  descent,  the  fifty  feet  nearest 
the  river  was  the  most  difficult,  and  this 


66     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

he  made  with  a  great  rush,  which  seemed 
fairly  to  wind  him  as  he  stood  panting  and 
blowing  at  the  first  stopping-place  for  five 
minutes.  At  last,  however,  he  seemed  to 
get  his  wind,  for  he  again  began  slowly  to 
ascend  and  finally  reached  the  top.  Here 
he  turned  for  a  last  look  over  the  landscape 
where  twilight  was  falling  fast  upon  the 
prairie  beyond. 

Finally  he  faced  about  and  trotted  leis- 
urely away  into  the  gathering  gloom,  and 
the  boys,  who  had  stopped  all  proceedings 
in  the  course  of  camp-making  to  watch 
him,  hurried  away  for  fuel  and  water. 

A  most  grewsome  reminder  of  the  great 
herd  was  discovered  one  day  at  the  bottom 
of  a  small  canyon,  perhaps  forty  feet  across 
and  thirty  deep, — just  such  crevasses  in  the 
face  of  mother  earth  as  are  often  met  with  in 
the  more  arid  portions  of  the  great  plains. 

At  the  bottom  of  this  canyon  they  dis- 
covered bleaching  in  the  hot  sun  the  skull- 


The  Thundering  Herd  67 

bones  and  partial  skeletons  of  perhaps 
twenty  buffalo.  These  grim  reminders  of 
the  tragedy  that  had  occurred  at  some  not 
distant  date  at  the  bottom  of  the  gulch 
were  lying  rather  close  together,  just  as  the 
struggling  mass  must  have  fallen. 

There  were  no  signs  of  a  piskun,  although 
that  may  have  been  the  cause  of  their  death, 
or  perhaps  it  was  a  wild  stampede  upon  a 
dark  night.  Maybe  the  herd  had  been 
cowering  in  the  darkness,  standing  in  a 
rather  compact  bunch  while  a  thunder- 
storm was  in  progress.  Presently  a  peal  of 
thunder  more  terrible  than  its  predecessors, 
or  a  brighter  flash  of  lightning,  may  have 
turned  loose  that  madness  known  as  the 
stampede  in  their  midst.  Or  it  may  have 
been  brought  about  by  some  quite  ridicu- 
lous cause.  Perhaps  it  was  broad  daylight, 
and  the  passing  of  a  cloud  shadow,  or  some 
unusual  noise  may  have  brought  on  the 
fatal  tragedy. 


68     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Anyhow,  it  happened  as  the  heap  of 
bleaching  bones  at  the  bottom  of  the 
canyon  testified,  and  away  the  herd 
went,  galloping  madly,  heedless  of  all 
dangers, — just  as  liable  to  plunge  into 
quagmires,  or  over  precipices  as  anything 
else. 

It  was  not  until  late  September  or  early 
October  that  the  Andersons  saw  the  buffalo 
in  any  numbers.  Hitherto,  it  had  been  an 
occasional  lonely  bison  feeding  in  some 
coulee,  or  a  solitary  bull  looking  off  across 
the  country  from  the  crest  of  a  swell,  but 
they  now  began  to  see  them  in  larger  num- 
bers. 

The  jolting  wagon  by  this  time  had 
pounded  its  weary  way  over  the  plains  and 
through  the  Bad  Lands  and  the  desert-like 
portions  of  the  prairies,  where  there  was 
nothing  but  sage-brush  and  sprawling  cac- 
tus, until  they  had  reached  a  point  near 
the  northwest  corner  of  Missouri, — what 


The  Thundering  Herd  69 

would  now  be  considered  within  an  easy 
distance  of  Omaha  and  Topeka. 

It  was  not  an  unfrequent  sight  to  see 
upon  the  slope  of  a  distant  swell  a  dozen 
buffalo  peacefully  grazing,  like  domestic 
cattle.  They  usually  made  off  at  a  slow 
trot  whenever  the  wagon  got  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  them.  Not  knowing 
much  of  the  habits  or  disposition  of  the 
bison,  Mr.  Anderson  said  that  they  would 
not  attempt  to  kill  any  at  present  even  for 
meat,  as  deer  and  other  game  were  plenti- 
ful. 

So  they  journeyed  along  without  molest- 
ing the  bison  that  they  saw,  satisfied  to  let 
them  alone,  if  they  were  in  turn  let  alone. 

This  amicable  arrangement  might  have 
held  good  until  they  reached  their  journey's 
end,  in  the  heart  of  Kansas,  had  not  some- 
thing happened  that  made  the  killing  of  a 
few  bison  the  price  of  safety  to  the  little 
party.  This  was  an  event  that  no  one  of 


70     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

the  emigrants  ever  forgot  as  long  as  he 
lived,  and  an  incident  that  filled  one  night 
as  full  of  excitement  and  peril  as  it  could 
well  hold. 

They  had  been  traveling  for  two  days 
over  a  nearly  unbroken  stretch  of  slightly 
undulating  prairie.  The  summer  sun  had 
baked  the  earth  till  it  was  hard  and  lifeless. 
Every  tuft  of  grass  was  burned  to  a  crisp. 
Even  the  sage-brush  that  grew  in  all  the 
sandy  spots  seemed  parched  by  the  shim- 
mering heat.  The  sky  was  a  bright  intense 
blue,  and  each  night  the  sunset  was  red  and 
the  afterglow  partially  obscured  by  a  cloud 
of  dust. 

The  watercourses  and  the  cottonwoods 
were  half  a  day's  journey  apart,  and  an 
intolerable  thirst  was  over  all  the  land- 
scape. 

The  second  day  of  this  trying  desert-like 
prairie  stretch  of  their  journey  was  just 
drawing  to  a  close,  when  they  noted  upon 


The  Thundering  Herd  71 

the  northern  horizon  what  at  first  seemed 
to  be  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

At  the  thought  of  a  prairie  fire  upon  such 
a  parched  area  as  these  plains,  a  horrible 
fear  seized  upon  the  little  party,  and  Mr. 
Anderson  hurried  to  the  top  of  the  nearest 
swell  to  learn  if  their  worst  fears  were  true. 

On  mounting  the  eminence,  he  discovered 
that  the  cloud  extended  from  the  east  to 
the  west  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  It 
certainly  was  not  smoke,  but  each  minute 
it  grew  in  density  and  volume,  like  a 
menace,  something  dark  and  foreboding 
that  would  engulf  them. 

Presently  as  he  watched,  he  thought  he 
heard  a  low  rumbling,  like  the  first  indis- 
tinct sounds  of  thunder,  and  putting  his  ear 
to  the  ground  in  Indian  fashion,  he  could 
hear  the  rumbling  quite  plainly.  It  was 
like  the  approach  of  a  mighty  earth- 
quake, only  it  traveled  much  slower; 
like  the  rumbling  of  the  surf;  like  the 


J2     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

voice  of  the  sea,  or  the  hurricane,  heard  at 
a  distance. 

Again  the  anxious  man  scanned  the  dark, 
ominous-looking  cloud,  that  now  belted 
half  the  horizon,  and  this  time  he  thought 
that  he  discerned  dark  particles  like  tiny 
dancing  motes  in  the  cloud.  Then  as  he 
gazed,  the  specks  grew  larger,  like  gnats  or 
small  flies,  close  to  where  the  horizon  line 
should  have  been.  Here  and  there  were 
clouds  of  the  dark  specks,  like  swarms  of 
busy  insects.  But  what  a  myriad  there  was. 
In  some  places  they  fairly  darkened  the 
cloud. 

Then  in  a  flash  the  truth  dawned  upon 
the  incredulous  man  leaving  him  gasping 
with  astonishment,  and  quaking  with  fear. 

All  these  tiny  specks  upon  the  horizon 
line  were  buffalo.  A  mighty  host  stretching 
from  east  to  west  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  and  to  the  north  God  only  knew 
how  far.  Like  an  avalanche  that  rushes 


The  Thundering  Herd  73 

upon  its  way,  unmindful  of  man  and  human 
life;  pitiless  as  fate,  and  as  remorseless  as 
all  the  primeval  forces  of  nature,  the 
Thundering  Herd  was  rolling  down  upon 
them. 

For  a  few  seconds  he  gazed,  fascinated 
and  held  to  the  spot  by  his  very  fear,  and 
the  wonder  of  it  all.  Darker  and  darker 
grew  the  cloud.  Plainer  and  plainer  the 
headlong  rush  of  the  countless  host  was 
seen,  while  the  rumbling  of  their  ten 
thousand  hoofs,  which  at  first  had  been 
like  distant  thunder,  now  swelled  to  the 
volume  of  a  rapidly  approaching  hurricane. 
The  solid  earth  was  felt  to  vibrate  and  rock, 
to  tremble  and  quake. 

Mr.  Anderson  waited  to  see  no  more,  but 
fled  back  to  his  family  whose  escape  from 
this  sea  of  hoofs  now  seemed  to  him  almost 
hopeless. 

The  boys  hurried  to  meet  him,  their  faces 
pale  with  fright,  for  even  the  rest  of  the 


74     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

family  now  realized  that  some  great  danger 
was  swooping  down  upon  them. 

Mr.  Anderson  made  his  plan  of  escape  as 
he  ran.  To  think  of  fleeing  was  out  of 
the  question.  Their  slow-moving  schooner 
would  be  overtaken  in  almost  no  time. 
There  was  no  canyon,  no  coulee  in  which  to 
take  refuge  ;  no  butte  to  which  they  might 
flee  ;  not  even  a  tree  or  a  rock  behind  which 
they  might  crouch,  and  thus  be  partly 
shielded.  Out  in  the  open  the  danger  must 
be  met,  with  nothing  but  the  shelter  of  the 
wagon  to  keep  off  the  grinding  hoofs,  and 
only  the  muzzles  of  their  three  guns  to  stand 
between  them  and  annihilation  when  the 
crash  came. 

Hastily  they  turned  the  wagon  about, 
with  its  hind  end  toward  the  herd.  The 
mules  were  unhitched  from  the  pole  and 
each  hitched  to  the  front  wheel.  A  rope 
was  also  passed  through  the  side  strap  of 
the  harness  of  each  mule,  and  he  was  fast- 


The  Thundering  Herd  75 

ened  to  the  hind  wheel  of  the  wagon,  so  that 
he  could  not  swing  about  and  be  across  the 
tide  when  this  sea  of  buffalo  should  strike 
them.  This  kept  the  mules  with  their  heels 
toward  the  herd,  thus  securing  the  addi- 
tional aid  of  a  mule's  heels  on  guard  at  each 
side  of  the  wagon.  Old  Brindle  was  secured 
to  the  pole  of  the  wagon,  where  the  mules 
had  been.  The  wheels  were  blocked.  What 
furniture  the  wagon  contained  was  piled  up 
behind  to  help  make  a  barricade.  When 
all  had  been  made  as  snug  as  possible,  the 
family  crawled  under  the  wagon  and  awaited 
results.  The  muzzles  of  the  two  rifles  were 
held  in  readiness  for  an  emergency  at  either 
side  of  the  wagon,  while  Mrs.  Anderson  had 
the  shotgun  in  readiness  to  reinforce  the 
garrison  should  they  need  more  loaded 
weapons  at  a  moment's  notice. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  Thundering 
Herd,  while  the  vibrations  in  the  solid  earth 
grew  with  each  passing  second.  The  clouds 


7  6     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

of  dust  shut  out  the  light  of  the  setting  sun, 
and  made  a  dark  pall  over  all  the  landscape, 
which  was  like  the  descending  of  the  mantle 
of  death. 

Bennie  gritted  his  teeth  together  and 
tried  hard  not  to  let  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle 
shake  as  he  pointed  it  out  between  the 
spokes  of  the  hind  wheel  on  his  side  of  the 
wagon. 

On  come  the  terrible  battalions  of  gallop- 
ing hoofs,  the  massive  heads  and  black 
beards  of  mighty  bulls  glowering  through 
the  clouds  of  dust.  Each  second  the  pound- 
ing of  their  hoofs  swelled  in  volume,  and 
each  second  the  vibrations  of  the  solid 
earth  became  more  pronounced.  Like  the 
smoke  of  a  great  conflagration,  the  dust- 
clouds  settled  over  the  prairies  until  the 
crouching,  trembling  human  beings,  so  im- 
potent in  this  vast  mad  rush  of  wild  beasts, 
could  see  the  frontlets  of  the  bulls  but  a 
few  rods  away. 


I 


i 


THE  MAD,  GALLOPING,  SURLY  HERD  WAS  ALL  ABOUT  THEM 


The  Thundering  Herd  77 

But  almost  before  they  had  time  to  real- 
ize it,  the  mad,  galloping,  pushing,  steam- 
ing, snorting  herd  was  all  about  them, 
pounding  by  so  close  that  the  coats  of  the 
nearest  bulls  brushed  the  sides  of  the  mules. 

At  first  they  seemed  to  turn  out  a  bit  for 
the  wagon,  but  presently  a  bunch  of  buffalo, 
more  compact  than  the  rest  of  the  herd, 
was  seen  bearing  down  upon  them  as 
though  they  were  charging  the  schooner, 
although  they  probably  did  not  even  notice 
it. 

"  Ready  with  your  rifle,  Bennie,"  called 
Mr.  Anderson,  and  father  and  son  both 
cocked  their  guns.  When  the  bunch  was 
almost  upon  them,  both  fired,  and  a  mighty 
bull  fell  kicking  against  the  back  of  the 
wagon,  but  his  kicks  were  not  of  long  du- 
ration, for  at  this  short  range  the  rifles  did 
fearful  execution. 

There  was  no  respite,  however,  for  close 
behind  the  fallen  bull  came  more,  and  Mr. 


78     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Anderson  reached  for  the  shotgun,  and 
piled  another  bull  upon  the  first,  although 
he  had  to  finish  him  with  a  Colt's  revolver, 
which  was  destined  to  stand  them  in  much 
better  stead  than  the  guns. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  muzzle- 
loading  rifles  could  be  loaded  while  lying 
down  in  the  cramped  position  under  the 
wagon,  but  the  Colt's  revolver,  which  was 
a  forty-four  and  just  as  effective  at  this 
short  range  as  a  rifle,  could  be  readily  re- 
loaded, and  Mrs.  Anderson  kept  its  five 
chambers  full. 

Old  Abe,  the  mule  upon  the  right  side  of 
the  wagon,  now  took  his  turn  in  the  fray, 
for  a  bull  galloped  too  close  to  him,  raking 
Abe's  flank  with  his  sharp  horn.  The 
mule  let  both  heels  fly,  striking  another 
bull  fairly  in  the  forehead,  and  felling  him 
to  the  ground.  But  a  buffalo's  skull  is  as 
thick  as  a  board,  and  the  bull  jumped  up 
and  galloped  on  with  his  fellows. 


The  Thundering  Herd  79 

For  a  few  minutes  the  two  dead  bulls  at 
the  rear  of  the  wagon  seemed  to  act  as  a 
buffer  and  the  others  parted  just  enough  to 
graze  the  wagon.  The  mules,  who  brayed 
and  kicked  whenever  the  buffalo  came  too 
close,  also  helped,  but  presently  another 
bunch  was  seen  bearing  down  upon  them. 
They  were  close  together  and  crowding,  and 
did  not  seem  likely  to  give  way  for  the 
crouching  fugitives  under  the  wagon. 

Although  Bennie  and  his  father  both 
fired,  and  Mr.  Anderson  followed  up  the 
rifle  shots  with  both  barrels  from  the  shot- 
gun, and  three  shots  from  the  Colt's,  yet 
they  struck  the  wagon  with  a  terrific  shock. 

There  was  frantic  kicking  and  frenzied 
braying  from  both  Abe  and  Ulysses  and  a 
violent  kicking  and  pounding  in  the  wagon 
that  seemed  to  be  immediately  over  their 
heads. 

It  was  plain  that  instantaneous  action  of 
some  kind  was  necessary  if  their  domicile 


8o     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

was  to  be  saved,  for  one  of  the  crowding 
bulls  had  been  carried  immediately  into  the 
wagon.  He  had  become  entangled  in  the 
top,  and  was  pawing  and  kicking  to  free 
himself.  His  great  head  just  protruded 
over  the  seat. 

Mr.  Anderson  reached  up  quickly  with 
the  Colt's,  and  put  an  end  to  his  kicking 
with  two  well  directed  shots. 

There  were  now  four  dead  bulls  piled  up 
behind  the  wagon  and  one  inside  of  it,  and 
soon  the  blood  from  their  last  victim  came 
trickling  through  upon  the  helpless  family. 
It  was  a  grewsome  position,  but  they  could 
not  escape  it  and  all  were  so  glad  that  the 
blood  was  not  their  own,  that  they  did  not 
mind. 

"  We  are  pretty  well  barricaded  now, 
Bennie,"  shouted  Mr.  Anderson,  just  mak- 
ing himself  heard  above  the  thunder  of  gal- 
loping hoofs.  "  I  think  we  are  safe.  They 
cannot  get  at  us  over  all  that  beef  and  they 


The  Thundering  Herd 


cannot  get  through  the  side,  so  I  do  not  see 
but  we  are  secure." 

"  Thank  God,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Anderson 
fervently,  "  but  I  shan't  feel  safe  until  the 
last  buffalo  has  passed." 

She  had  barely  ceased  speaking  when  old 
Abe  uttered  a  piercing  bray,  in  which  was 
both  terror  and  pain.  He  accompanied  the 
outcry  with  a  vicious  kick,  but  almost  im- 
mediately sank  to  the  earth,  kicking  and  paw- 
ing. It  was  then  seen  that  a  bull  had  ripped 
open  the  mule's  left  side,  partially  disem- 
boweling him,  a  mortal  wound.  His 
frantic  kicking  so  endangered  the  cowering 
fugitives  under  the  wagon  that  Mr.  Ander- 
son was  obliged  to  shoot  him.  His  loss  was 
irreparable,  and  the  boys  whimpered  softly 
to  themselves  as  they  saw  their  old  friend 
stretched  out  dead  beside  the  wagon. 

Old  Brindle  at  this  point  became  unman- 
ageable, breaking  her  rope,  so  that  the 
seething  black  mass  swallowed  her.  "  There 


82     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

goes  old  Brindle  too,"  sobbed  Tommy.  "  I 
guess  we  will  all  starve  now." 

Poor  Shep,  who  had  been  securely  tied  at 
the  forward  end  of  the  wagon,  cowered  and 
whimpered  as  though  he  too  thought  the 
judgment  day  had  come,  and  it  was  his  and 
Tommy's  lot  to  comfort  each  other, — the 
dog  licking  the  boy's  hands,  and  he  in  turn 
patting  the  dog's  head. 

The  loss  of  old  Brindle  and  Abe  proved 
to  be  the  turning-point  in  the  misfortunes 
of  the  Andersons,  for  the  herd  now  parted 
at  the  barricade  made  by  the  dead  buffalo, 
the  mule,  and  the  wagon,  so  that  although 
every  few  minutes  it  seemed  as  though  they 
would  be  engulfed,  yet  the  danger  veered 
to  one  side  and  passed  by. 

Half  an  hour  and  then  an  hour  went  by 
and  still  there  was  no  diminution  of  the  herd. 
The  second  hour  and  the  third  passed  and 
still  they  came,  crowding  and  pushing, 
blowing  and  snorting,  steaming  and  reeking. 


The  Thundering  Herd 83 

"  Won't  they  ever  go  by,  father  ?  "  asked 
Bennie.  "  I  should  think  there  were  a 
million  of  them." 

"  It  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  that  I 
ever  saw,"  replied  Mr.  Anderson.  "  I  have 
often  heard  old  hunters  tell  about  the  count- 
less herds  of  buffalo,  but  I  had  always  sup- 
posed that  they  were  lying.  In  the  future  I 
will  believe  anything  about  their  numbers." 

At  last  seeing  that  they  were  in  no  im- 
mediate danger,  Mr.  Anderson  told  the 
boys  to  go  to  sleep  if  they  could  and  he 
would  watch.  If  there  was  any  need  of 
their  help,  he  would  call  them. 

Accordingly,  all  the  firearms  were 
loaded  and  placed  by  Mr.  Anderson  and 
the  boys,  and  Shep  curled  up  near  the  for- 
ward wheels  to  rest.  They  were  terribly 
tired,  for  the  excitement  and  the  hard  work 
had  told  upon  their  young  nerves  and 
muscles. 

The  last  thing  Bennie  remembered  was 


84     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

the  thunder  of  the  myriad  hoofs,  and  the 
rocking  and  trembling  of  the  earth  under 
him.  But  even  these  sounds  soon  ceased 
for  him,  and  he  and  his  brother  slept. 

When  he  again  opened  his  eyes,  the  sun 
was  shining  brightly  and  the  clouds  of  dust 
that  had  obscured  the  moon  when  he  fell 
asleep  had  been  partly  dissipated.  Here 
and  there  he  could  see  an  occasional  buffalo 
galloping  southward,  but  the  mighty  herd, 
whose  numbers  had  seemed  like  the  stars, 
was  gone. 

"  It's  the  tail  end  of  the  procession,  boy," 
called  Bennie's  father.  "  The  last  install- 
ment went  by  about  fifteen  minutes  ago. 
I  did  not  dream  that  bison  could  be  found 
in  such  numbers  in  Western  Missouri  at  the 
present  time.  I  had  supposed  the  few  scat- 
tering head  that  we  saw  were  all  that  were 
left  in  the  state." 

This  conclusion  of  Mr.  Anderson's  was 
quite  right,  but  this  autumn,  for  some  un- 


The  Thundering  Herd  85 

accountable  reason,  the  great  herd  had 
come  down  for  a  part  of  the  way  on  the 
Missouri  River  on  its  southern  migration 
following  the  old  trail  of  two  decades 
before,  instead  of  crossing  Western  Ne- 
braska and  Kansas.  It  had  been  a  costly 
experiment,  however,  for  all  the  way  hunt- 
ers had  swarmed  upon  their  flanks  and 
they  had  lost  thousands  of  head,  but  their 
number  was  legion,  so  what  did  it  matter?1 

1  At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  the  bison  had  disap- 
peared in  all  parts  of  Missouri,  with  the  exception  of  the  Bad 
Lands,  where  they  were  still  found  in  small  bands.  So  persist- 
ently did  they  stick  to  this  wild  country  that  Colonel  Roosevelt 
tells  of  shooting  individual  buffalo  in  Missouri  as  late  as  1885. 


CHAPTER  III 
LITTLE  BIGHEAD 


CHAPTER  III 

LITTLE   BIGHEAD 

SLOWLY  and  thankfully  the  Andersons 
crawled  out  from  under  the  wagon  and 
stretched  themselves  and  rubbed  their 
joints.  Their  muscles  had  become  so 
cramped  and  stiff  that  it  was  some  time 
before  the  elder  members  of  the  party 
could  stand,  but  the  boys  seemed  to  ex- 
perience very  little  ill  effect  from  the 
night's  sleep  on  the  ground  under  the 
wagon. 

The  most  delighted  member  of  the  party 
was  Shep,  who  danced  about,  barking  and 
frolicking  as  soon  as  he  was  untied. 

But  what  a  scene  it  was  that  met  their 
eyes !  The  ground  had  seemed  dry  and 
parched  enough  before,  but  it  had  shown 
still  a  little  semblance  of  verdure.  Now 


go     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

all  that  had  been  ground  to  dust  by  the 
passing  herd.  Not  only  had  all  vegetation 
been  destroyed,  but  the  solid  earth,  which 
had  seemed  so  hard  from  the  baking  of  the 
sun,  was  dented  and  harrowed  by  the 
myriad  hoofs.  Steaming  dung  was  every- 
where, and  the  reek  of  cattle,  hot  and 
steamy,  filled  the  air.  This  taint  was  so 
strong  that  it  still  seemed  as  though  they 
must  be  all  about,  and  the  boys  kept  look- 
ing apprehensively  to  the  north,  for  the  air 
was  still  filled  with  the  presence  of  the  herd. 
Mr.  Anderson  at  once  untied  old  Ulysses, 
who  evidenced  his  delight  by  kicking  up 
and  braying  after  the  most  approved  manner 
of  mules.  Grass  there  was  none  to  be  had, 
so  after  nosing  about  for  a  while  the  mule 
philosophically  went  to  eating  a  young 
cottonwood.  The  mule  is  the  most  hardy 
of  the  equestrian  family,  and  he  will  thrive 
where  a  horse  will  die.  Sawdust  or  almost 
anything  else  seems  to  be  grist  for  his  mill. 


Little  Bighead 91 

"We  must  hurry  up  and  get  breakfast 
and  then  go  in  search  of  old  Brindle,"  said 
Mr.  Anderson.  "It  seems  like  rather  a 
hopeless  task  on  these  great  plains,  but  we 
have  got  to  find  her." 

So  while  the  boys  went  to  a  distant  dead 
cottonwood  for  fuel,  Mr.  Anderson  cut  the 
tongues  from  the  four  dead  animals,  which 
were  quite  enough  for  their  breakfast. 

His  method  of  severing  the  tongue  was 
unique, — something  that  he  had  learned  of 
an  old  frontiersman.  With  his  hunting- 
knife  he  cut  the  tongue  off  under  the  jaw 
at  its  roots,  and  then  drew  it  out  through 
the  side  of  the  mouth,  without  the  tedious 
process  of  prying  open  the  dead  animal's 
jaws,  which  might  have  been  somewhat  of 
an  undertaking. 

Breakfast  put  heart  into  the  emigrants 
and  made  life  look  better  worth  living. 

Mr.  Anderson's  first  move  after  the  meal 
was  to  draw  the  wagon  away  from  the  three 


92     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

dead  buffalo,  and  then  to  snake  out  the 
one  inside,  by  the  aid  of  Ulysses.  This 
was  quite  a  task  and  he  nearly  tipped  the 
wagon  over  in  doing  it,  but  it  was  finally 
accomplished. 

They  then  left  Mrs.  Anderson  and  her 
youngest  eon  to  do  what  they  could  to  re- 
pair the  damage  in  camp,  while  Mr.  Ander- 
son and  Bennie  went  in  search  of  old 
Brindle. 

It  seemed  almost  a  hopeless  task  upon 
the  hoof-beaten  plain  to  find  her,  even  if 
she  had  not  been  swept  along  with  the 
herd.  But  Mr.  Anderson  counted  upon 
Shep.  He  had  gone  for  the  cow  in  the 
Indiana  pasture  ever  since  he  was  a  curly 
frisking  pup,  and  if  any  nose  could  follow 
her  trail  it  was  his.  Besides  he  was  a 
famous  cattle  dog,  having  participated 
many  times,  back  in  the  Hoosier  State,  in 
rounding  up  strayed  or  stolen  cattle. 

Not  only  was  old  Brindle  a  necessity  to 


Little  Bighead 93 

the  family  as  a  producer  of  milk,  but  she 
was  now  to  be  their  other  mule,  for  it  was 
only  by  hitching  her  beside  Ulysses  that 
they  could  continue  their  journey. 

It  was  now  merely  a  question  of  traveling 
until  they  could  find  a  fertile  coulee,  or  a 
hundred  acres  of  bottom-land,  which  should 
be  sheltered,  and  near  to  wood  and  water, 
when  they  would  stop  and  get  to  work 
making  things  snug  for  the  winter. 

To  the  surprise  of  every  one,  Shep  took 
the  track  of  old  Brindle  after  being  told  to 
fetch  the  cow,  and  started  off  across  the 
desolate  plains,  Mr.  Anderson  and  Bennie 
following  at  his  heels.  He  was  obliged  to 
go  rather  slowly,  however,  and  keep  his 
nose  close  to  the  ground.  It  seemed  almost 
like  a  miracle  that  he  could  follow  it  at  all 
among  the  myriad  hoof  prints. 

The  trail  led,  as  they  had  expected,  to  the 
southward,  the  old  cow  evidently  being 
swept  along  with  the  herd.  All  the  time 


94     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

the  man  and  boy  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  a 
creek,  as  they  were  nearly  famished,  the 
contents  of  one  water-jug  having  lasted  the 
whole  family  all  through  that  perilous 
night. 

On,  on  they  went  across  the  endless 
plains,  the  scorching  sun  beating  down 
mercilessly.  At  about  noon  they  were 
obliged  to  rest  in  a  small  canyon,  which 
was  the  only  shade  that  they  had  met  with 
since  leaving  camp.  Even  here  there  was 
little  verdure,  and  almost  no  trees,  and 
worst  of  all  no  water. 

At  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
they  again  took  up  their  tedious  quest. 
Shep  was  now  often  rather  uncertain  of  the 
trail,  and  was  occasionally  obliged  to  take 
fifteen  minutes  to  unravel  it  from  that  of 
the  rest  of  the  herd. 

Finally  at  about  four  o'clock  the  broad 
trail  struck  off  to  the  west,  and  all  felt  in- 
stinctively that  this  change  would  better 


Little  Bighead 95 

their  fortunes.  Nor  was  this  feeling  a  false 
hope,  for  soon  cotton  woods  and  green  bluffs 
loomed  up  ahead,  and  in  another  hour  they 
were  again  upon  the  banks  of  the  broad 
Missouri,  which  they  had  not  seen  for  two 
weeks. 

With  a  shout  of  delight,  man,  boy,  and 
dog  plunged  into  the  shallow  water,  and 
were  soon  refreshed,  drinking  and  drinking 
until  it  seemed  as  though  they  would  burst. 

"  I  must  start  back  at  once  for  camp,  to 
carry  water  to  mother  and  Torn,"  said  Mr. 
Anderson.  "  You  can  continue  the  search 
for  old  Brindle,  and  we  will  meet  here  at 
this  particular  spot  upon  the  river  bank. 
That  is,  if  we  can  get  the  wagon  here.  If  I 
cannot,  I  will  come  forward  on  foot,  so  that 
you  can  look  for  me  here  to-morrow  night 
without  fail." 

At  the  thought  of  being  left  alone  upon 
the  wide  desolate  plains,  with  no  other 
company  than  Shep,  Bennie's  heart  failed 


96     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

him.  He  was  made  of  good  stuff,  however, 
and  did  not  let  his  father  see  that  he 
was  afraid.  The  need  of  his  mother  and 
brother,  who  had  gone  all  day  with  little 
water,  must  be  terrible.  For  their  sakes  he 
must  be  a  man. 

"All  right,  father,"  he  said,  choking 
down  his  fears.  "  To-morrow  night  we 
will  meet  here.  I  will  have  old  Brindle, 
and  you  be  here  with  the  wagon  and 
mother  and  Tom." 

Father  and  son  clasped  hands  to  cement 
the  bargain,  and  after  filling  both  canteens, 
for  Bennie  was  to  be  left  without  one,  Mr. 
Anderson  started  back  for  camp,  going  by 
means  of  the  small  compass  that  he  always 
carried.  Besides  this  he  also  had  a  com- 
pass somewhere  inside  him.  A  woodsman's 
compass, — an  instinct  that  almost  never 
fails  its  owner  and  is  priceless  upon  the 
frontier.  Besides  if  it  was  not  cloudy,  there 
was  always  the  bright,  intense  North  Star, 


Little  Bighead  97 


just  in  line  with  the  bowl  of  the  Big  Dip- 
per, to  guide  one. 

In  spite  of  his  strong  resolutions  to  be  a 
man,  it  was  with  a  terrible  sense  of  loneli- 
ness that  Bennie  watched  his  father's  form 
grow  smaller  and  smaller  as  he  hurried 
back  to  the  waiting  ones  in  camp.  As  soon 
as  the  figure  disappeared  over  the  top  of  a 
distant  rise  in  the  prairies,  the  boy  and  the 
dog  set  about  exploring  the  immediate 
country  and  also  looking  for  a  suitable 
place  to  spend  the  night. 

As  the  river  was  broad  and  quite  swift 
here,  Bennie  thought  there  might  be  a  very 
good  chance  of  finding  the  cow  upon  the 
morrow.  The  herd  had  swum  the  river, 
and  its  straggling  rear-guard  could  be 
plainly  seen  feeding  upon  some  high  pla- 
teau-like prairie  beyond.  Bennie  felt  posi- 
tive that  old  Brindle  would  not  swim  the 
river,  for  she  was  not  used  to  such  long 
swims  as  were  these  wild  cattle. 


98     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

So  the  boy  and  the  dog  explored  the 
banks  for  a  mile  in  each  direction  without 
seeing  any  signs  of  the  cow,  and  then  they 
decided  to  stop  in  a  small  coulee  leading 
down  to  the  river.  Here  it  was  cool  and 
sweet  and  very  restful  after  the  long  tramp 
across  the  plains. 

Bennie  did  not  share  his  bison-steak 
with  the  dog,  so  he  shot  a  gopher  for  Shep, 
who  seemed  quite  contented  with  his  own 
supper. 

Presently  the  soft  mantle  of  dusk  dropped 
suddenly  over  the  great  plains,  and  one  by 
one  the  stars  appeared.  Bennie  amused 
himself  counting  them  until  they  came  so 
fast  that  he  could  no  longer  keep  track  of 
them ;  then  he  went  to  collect  some  fagots 
for  the  night  camp-fire. 

The  plains  seemed  so  vast  and  lifeless  as 
far  as  human  life  was  concerned.  It  would 
not  seem  quite  so  bad  when  they  had  the 
fire  going,  for  a  camp-fire  is  a  great  dis- 


Little  Bighead  99 

penser  of  cheer  in  a  lonely  corner  of  the 
world.  Its  cracking  and  sputtering  is  al- 
most like  the  voice  of  a  friend. 

Now  the  coyote  began  his  mournful 
night-song,  and  a  loon  from  far  up  the 
river  joined  in  to  keep  the  small  wolves 
company.  Some  mallards  were  quacking 
softly  to  themselves  in  the  sedges  along  the 
bank,  and  great  bayou  bullfrogs  were  sound- 
ing their  deep  bass  notes. 

The  most  sinister  sound  that  came  to 
their  ears  was  the  far-away  hunting-cry  of 
the  great  gray  wolf, — some  grizzled  old 
leader  calling  to  his  pack  as  they  skirted 
the  rear-guard  of  the  herd  of  buffalo.  Per- 
haps it  was  a  sick  old  bull,  whom  they  had 
cut  out  of  the  herd,  or  maybe  it  was  a  heifer 
and  her  first  calf.  In  either  case  it  boded 
no  good  for  the  quarry  that  the  gray  wolf 
hunted  that  night. 

At  the  sound  every  hair  upon  Shep's  back 
went  up  and  he  trembled  with  excitement 


ioo     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

and  fear.  But  soon  they  had  the  camp-fire 
blazing  brightly  and  Bennie  knew  that  as 
long  as  they  kept  it  going,  the  wolves  would 
not  come  very  close  to  them. 

When  Shep  had  finished  his  gopher, 
and  the  boy  his  buffalo  meat,  both  took  a 
drink  from  the  river,  and  then  they  cuddled 
down  by  the  camp-fire  for  the  night. 

Bennie  pillowed  his  head  upon  the  soft 
coat  of  Shep  and  held  one  hand  in  his  collar. 
The  other  grasped  the  stock  of  his  rifle. 
Thus  doubly  guarded,  the  boy  fell  asleep. 

The  next  thing  that  Bennie  remembered 
was  a  sensation  that  something  was  licking 
his  face.  His  first  confused  thought  was 
that  it  might  be  a  bear.  Had  a  huge  bear 
crept  upon  him  while  he  slept  and  was  he 
now  in  the  act  of  washing  his  dirty  face, 
preparatory  to  eating  him  ? 

Instinctively  his  hand  tightened  upon 
the  grip  of  the  rifle,  and  he  slowly  opened 
his  eyes,  only  to  look  into  the  grinning  face 


Little  Bighead  101 

of  Shep — faithful  Shep,  who  had  watched 
all  night  at  his  side  and  was  now  gently  lick- 
ing his  face  to  awaken  him. 

The  sun  was  just  mounting  over  the 
eastern  rim  of  the  prairie,  and  a  score  of  un- 
known birds  were  twittering  and  scolding 
in  the  small  cottonwoods  by  the  river.  The 
ducks  were  quacking  and  gabbling  as  they 
fed  in  the  sedges  along  shore.  The  whole 
vast  stretch  of  mother  earth  was  waking 
into  the  fulness  of  another  day. 

Bennie  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes  and 
tried  to  remember  where  he  was.  Then  it 
all  came  over  him  in  a  flash.  He  and  Shep 
were  alone  by  the  great  river  and  his  father 
and  mother  and  Tommy  were  somewhere 
to  the  north.  He  was  to  look  up  old  Brindle 
and  bring  her  to  the  river  bank,  and  his 
father  was  to  bring  the  schooner  and  the 
rest  of  the  family  to  their  place  of 
rendezvous. 

Bennie  made  a  hasty  breakfast  on  some 


1O2     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

of  the  buffalo  meat  which  still  remained, 
and  shot  another  gopher  for  Shep.  Finally 
both  took  a  drink  in  the  Missouri,  and  then 
boy  and  dog  started  off  up  the  river  to  look 
for  the  missing  cow. 

They  had  not  gone  two  miles  when  they 
came  to  a  broad,  deep  coulee,  filled  with  small 
trees,  and  through  it  flowed  a  bright  little 
stream  to  meet  the  Missouri.  Although  it 
was  hot  and  dry  out  on  the  prairie,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  coulee  it  was  cool  and  sweet. 
It  seemed  such  a  restful  spot  that  Bennie 
and  Shep  lay  down  in  the  grateful  shade  to 
rest  for  a  little  before  pursuing  their  quest 
further. 

They  had  been  lying  still  for  perhaps 
fifteen  minutes  when  Shep  reared  upon  his 
haunches  and  began  sniffing  the  air  excit- 
edly. His  young  master  told  him  to  lie 
down  and  keep  quiet,  but  he  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  the  command. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Shep?" 


Little  Bighead  103 


asked  the  boy  finally,  seeing  the  dog's  grow- 
ing excitement.  For  answer  Shep  bolted 
through  the  cover,  uttering  quick,  excited 
barks  at  every  jump.  Thinking  that  he  had 
discovered  some  game  which  was  close  at 
hand,  Bennie  rushed  after  him,  rifle  in 
readiness  to  shoot  at  a  moment's  notice. 

After  going  about  ten  rods,  Shep's  barking 
suddenly  ceased  and  his  young  master  came 
abruptly  upon  him  in  a  little  open  spot, 
where  he  stood  exultantly  wagging  his  tail 
and  grinning  at  a  large  reddish  object  which 
was  partly  hidden  under  a  small  spreading 
cottonwood. 

Was  it  a  buffalo  ?  Bennie  raised  the  rifle, 
but  it  suddenly  fell  in  his  hands.  It  was 
old  Brindle,  standing  under  the  tree  swish- 
ing flies  and  chewing  her  cud. 

But  this  surprise  was  barely  over  when 
they  were  treated  to  another,  for  the  old 
cow,  who  had  usually  been  upon  the  best  of 
terms  with  Shep,  charged  full  upon  the 


104     The  &n9  °f  th>e  Thundering  Herd 

faithful  dog,  causing  him  to  turn  tail  and 
skulk  away  through  the  coulee. 

But  every  few  rods  Shep  would  turn 
about  and  wag  his  tail,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Now  what  does  this  mean,  Brindle  ?  You 
know  me.  I  am  Shep,  your  old  friend." 

Bennie  was  still  standing  gazing  after 
them  and  wondering  what  made  the  cow 
act  so  strangely,  when  the  dog  doubled 
back  and  came  under  the  tree  where  the 
cow  had  been  standing.  He  was  too  good 
a  cattle  dog  not  to  understand  something  of 
the  cow's  actions.  At  this  move  upon 
Shep's  part  Brindle  became  more  enraged 
than  ever,  charging  him  furiously.  Shep 
repeated  his  tactics  again,  leading  the  cow 
a  few  rods  away  and  then  doubled  sharply 
coming  back  under  the  tree  again. 

This  time  he  seemed  to  find  what  he  was 
looking  for,  and  he  told  the  news  to  his 
master  with  excited  barks,  now  refusing  to 
be  driven  away  from  the  tree,  but  skulk- 


Little  Bighead 105 

ing  in  and  out  and  just  eluding  the  cow's 
horns. 

At  last  it  dawned  upon  Bennie  that  there 
was  something  under  the  tree  which  was 
the  cause  of  this  strange  game  of  hide  and 
seek  between  the  dog  and  the  cow.  So  he 
slowly  advanced,  calling  soothingly  to 
Brindle. 

He  had  taken  not  a  dozen  steps  when  he 
almost  stumbled  over  the  strangest  looking 
little  yellow  calf  that  he  had  ever  seen.  It 
was  lying  curled  up  in  a  comfortable  nest 
made  in  the  brakes,  its  two  great  ears  slowly 
wagging  away  the  flies. 

It  was  a  very  decided  yellow  with  a  short, 
thick  coat.  Its  eyes  were  very  large  and 
wondering,  and  it  had  a  spike-tail  only  a 
few  inches  in  length.  But  the  most  pecul- 
iar thing  of  all  about  the  calf  was  that  its 
head  was  very  large,  and  it  looked  almost 
as  though  it  might  topple  over  if  it  got  to 
its  feet. 


106     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

11  By  jiminy,"  cried  Bennie,  "  old  Brin- 
die  has  gone  and  had  a  calf  I  " 

But  no,  this  could  not  be ;  the  cow  had 
been  new  milch  only  for  a  few  months. 
The  calf  was  not  hers,  but  she  had  plainly 
adopted  it. 

At  that  moment  from  far  across  the  river 
floated  the  bellow  of  a  distant  buffalo. 
This  sound  gave  just  the  key  to  the  mystery 
needed,  and  the  truth  flashed  across  Bennie. 
It  was  a  buffalo  calf,  one  that  had  lost  its 
mother  and  strayed  away  from  the  herd. 
Old  Brindle  had  either  adopted  it  of  her 
own  will,  or  perhaps  the  little  stranger  had 
forced  his  company  upon  her. 

Bennie  now  went  up  to  old  Brindle  and 
got  hold  of  her  horns.  Then  he  untied  a 
rope  which  he  had  carried  about  his  waist 
for  the  purpose  and  secured  the  cow,  and 
with  Shep  bringing  up  the  rear,  started  to 
lead  her  slowly  out  of  the  coulee. 

At  the  first  move  upon  their  part  the  calf 


Little  Bighead 107 

scrambled  to  his  feet  with  great  alacrity 
and  trotted  after  them,  keeping  his  big  head 
butting  away  at  old  Brindle's  flanks.  This 
seemed  to  please  the  cow,  for  she  looked 
back  and  looed  at  the  calf.  Thus  the  pro- 
cession made  their  way  back  to  the  place 
that  had  been  appointed  for  the  meeting  of 
the  family  in  the  evening. 

Bennie  busied  himself  getting  fire-wood 
and  searching  out  the  best  place  for  camp 
when  the  wagon  and  the  rest  of  the  family 
should  arrive. 

About  three  o'clock  he  made  out  the 
schooner,  perhaps  two  miles  away,  coming 
slowly  toward  them.  Tying  old  Brindle 
securely,  he  went  to  help  his  father  with 
the  wagon,  leaving  Shep  in  charge  of  the 
cow  and  the  calf. 

He  found  them  having  a  hard  time  of  it, 
dragging  the  wagon  by  means  of  one  mule, 
and  what  assistance  Mr.  Anderson  could 
give  him. 


i  o8     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Bennie  at  once  told  the  good  news  of  their 
finding  the  cow,  but  said  nothing  of  his 
other  find.  This  would  be  his  and  Shep's 
surprise  for  them.  At  last  the  wagon  lum- 
bered down  to  the  bank  of  the  river  where 
Shep  was  keeping  guard  over  his  two 
charges. 

Just  as  they  came  up,  the  cow,  which  had 
been  lying  down,  arose,  and  the  comical 
little  yellow  calf,  all  head  and  with  almost 
no  tail,  jumped  to  his  feet  and  butted  play- 
fully at  Shep. 

The  moment  that  Tommy  saw  him  he 
cried,  "  Oh,  you  dear  little  Bighead."  The 
name  fitted  him  so  well  that  it  was  the 
only  one  he  had  until  he  was  two  years  old. 

The  following  day  the  harness  that  had 
been  used  upon  the  dead  mule  was  read- 
justed to  the  shape  of  old  Brindle,  and 
she  was  hitched  beside  Ulysses.  Soon  the 
schooner  resumed  its  weary  way  over  the 
prairies,  but  at  a  rather  slower  pace  than 


Little  Bighead 109 

before.  Mr.  Anderson  had  to  walk  by 
Brindle's  side,  and  lead  her,  as  she  refused 
to  be  driven. 

They  now  forded  the  Missouri  River,  and 
for  four  weeks  journeyed  westward  into  the 
state  of  Kansas  where  the  gently  undulating 
prairies,  traversed  by  many  creeks  and  riv- 
ers, greatly  pleased  Mr.  Anderson. 

One  evening  just  at  sunset  they  came 
upon  a  small  stream  flowing  down  from 
the  north.  This  river  was  perhaps  one 
hundred  feet  across,  and  along  its  banks 
stretched  a  beautiful  meadow  about  a  mile 
wide. 

This  meadow-land  was  not  undulating 
like  the  prairie,  but  was  made  land  which 
the  wash  of  the  river  had  smoothed  and 
enriched.  The  beaver  also  had  done  his 
part  in  producing  the  meadows,  as  the  re- 
mains of  some  old  beaver  dams  testified. 

Mr.  Anderson's  eye  was  at  once  taken 
with  the  spot.  He  saw  at  a  glance  that  the 


i  io     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

meadows  were  rich  and  especially  fine  grass 
land.  Although  it  was  nearly  the  first  of 
October,  the  meadow  grass  was  still  quite 
green  and  higher  than  the  knees. 

"  Here  is  our  stopping-place  for  the  pres- 
ent," he  said,  as  the  schooner  came  out  on 
the  bank  of  the  stream.  "  I  know  that  it 
is  good  water  by  the  looks  of  it.  This  is 
fine  land.  It  is  sheltered,  and  altogether 
an  ideal  spot  for  our  home." 

So  a  suitable  camping-place  was  selected 
and  the  cow  and  the  mule  were  turned  loose 
upon  the  meadow. 

The  following  morning  they  began  in 
earnest  to  make  ready  for  the  winter.  They 
had  brought  a  few  necessary  tools  with 
them,  such  as  carpenters'  tools,  a  plough, 
shovels,  hoes,  rakes,  and  nearly  all  the  small 
farm-tools. 

There  were  two  things  to  consider  and 
these  were  to  provide  food  and  shelter  for 
the  winter.  In  the  frontier  the  stock  is 


Little  Bighead 


usually  provided  for,  even  before  the  human 
beings,  so  their  first  care  was  to  cut  and 
stack  several  tons  of  the  meadow  hay.  This 
occupied  nearly  two  weeks.  Then  they 
turned  their  attention  to  making  winter- 
quarters. 

On  one  side  of  the  stream,  about  half  a 
mile  back  from  the  Kansas  River  into 
which  their  creek  emptied,  was  a  woody 
bluff.  This  would  afford  shelter  from  the 
winds  and  also  a  fuel  supply.  Accordingly, 
this  spot  was  selected  as  the  site  of  their 
abode.  Nature  had  also  favored  them  here, 
for  they  discovered  a  natural  cave  in  the 
bluff,  which  a  few  days'  work  made  a  very 
comfortable  stable  for  the  cow  and  mule, 
not  to  mention  Little  Bighead,  who  was 
now  the  center  of  all  the  plans  as  far  as  the 
young  people  were  concerned.  Mrs.  Ander- 
son also  was  as  fond  of  him  as  she  had  ever 
been  of  any  pet  calf  back  on  the  Indiana 
farm. 


112     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Having  provided  for  the  stock,  Mr.  An- 
derson turned  his  attention  to  making  suit- 
able quarters  for  his  family  during  the 
winter  months. 

They  first  dug  quite  a  respectable  cellar 
in  the  side  hill  and  then  builded  a  log  and 
sod  lean-to,  part  of  it  underground  and  part 
above.  This  made  the  cabin  warmer  than 
it  would  have  been  had  all  four  walls  been 
exposed  to  the  wind  and  cold,  and  it  was 
also  lighter  than  an  entire  dugout  would 
have  been.  All  the  cracks  and  chinks  were 
plastered  up  tight  with  mud  and  clay,  and 
at  last  it  was  quite  snug.  A  fine  stone 
chimney  was  also  builded  from  the  under- 
ground part  of  the  cabin,  and  this  added 
greatly  to  its  comfort. 

Having  done  the  most  necessary  things, 
Mr.  Anderson  and  Bennie  now  set  them- 
selves the  task  of  providing  meat  for  the 
winter.  This  was  also  work,  but  rather 
more  exciting  than  the  house  building. 


Little  Bighead 


They  soon  discovered  that  bear  and  deer 
were  quite  plentiful  in  the  bottom-lands 
along  the  river,  four  or  five  miles  farther 
up-stream.  Where  there  are  deer,  you  can 
usually  find  Bruin,  for  the  bear  is  fond  of 
venison.  A  week's  hunt  gave  them  five 
fine  bearskins,  and  all  the  bear  meat  that 
they  would  care  for  all  winter.  These  bear- 
skins were  a  very  important  part  of  the 
furnishing  of  the  cabin,  as  they  added 
greatly  to  the  warmth  and  comfort  of  their 
abode  both  by  day  and  night.  Venison 
was  also  obtained  in  abundance,  and  both 
this,  and  the  bear  meat  was  cut  in  very  thin 
strips  and  dried  until  it  was  almost  as  hard 
as  a  chip.  But  when  moistened  it  was 
again  very  palatable. 

Later  on  they  could  also  shoot  different 
kinds  of  game  and  hang  it  up  outside, 
letting  it  freeze.  In  this  way  it  would  keep 
all  winter  and  could  be  thawed  out  when- 
ever necessary.  Fish  were  also  added  to 


114     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

the  menu  each  day.  These  could  be  caught 
whenever  they  were  wanted,  and  the  boys 
thought  it  great  sport  so  to  furnish  the 
larder. 

But  for  the  moment  I  had  almost  lost 
sight  of  Little  Bighead,  who  is  from  now 
on  the  central  figure  in  this  story.  During 
the  two  weeks'  march  to  their  final  stopping- 
place,  he  had  been  much  in  evidence.  He 
usually  trotted  soberly  along  by  the  side  of 
old  Brindle,  but  he  very  frequently  frisked 
and  capered  off  a  few  rods  on  his  own 
account.  He  and  Shep  were  the  best  of 
friends  from  the  first.  The  calf  would 
make  believe  to  butt  the  dog,  at  which  Shep 
would  growl  and  show  his  teeth,  and  then 
they  would  race  in  and  out  along  the  trail 
in  the  liveliest  manner. 

Sometimes  Shep  would  stand  perfectly 
still  for  five  minutes  and  let  the  buffalo  calf 
suck  his  ear.  This  was  a  favorite  pastime 
of  Little  Bighead's.  Then  Shep  would 


Little  Bighead  115 

suddenly  jerk  his  ear  away  and  seize  the 
calf's  leg  in  his  mouth.  Sometimes  he  even 
tumbled  him  over,  but  this  was  merely  in 
play  and  the  dog  and  calf  were  inseparable. 
They  slept  together,  and  were  always  wan- 
dering about  the  meadows  together.  Shep 
seemed  to  think  that  it  devolved  upon  him 
to  look  out  for  the  calf. 

Finally  the  snow  came  and  there  was 
little  that  they  could  do  except  stay  inside 
and  keep  warm.  But  on  pleasant  days 
Bennie  and  Mr.  Anderson  went  upon 
long  hunting  trips.  On  one  of  these  trips 
they  shot  a  couple  of  antelope,  some- 
thing that  they  had  not  been  able  to  do 
before. 

In  the  spring  they  broke  land  and  planted 
corn  and  potatoes,  and  also  sowed  a  little 
wheat.  They  likewise  had  a  little  patch  of 
a  garden  which  the  boys  tended.  There 
was  always  plenty  for  all  to  do,  and  they 
did  their  work  with  a  will.  Work  made 


n6     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

them  brown  and  strong,  with  appetites  like 
wolves. 

Little  Bighead  grew  like  a  weed,  and  it 
was  soon  apparent  that  he  was  to  be  a 
mighty  buffalo.  By  the  time  he  was  two 
years  old  he  weighed  about  eight  hundred 
pounds  and  took  his  place  in  the  harness, 
with  either  the  cow  or  the  mule. 

His  back  was  broad  and  flat,  and  Bennie 
taught  Shep  to  jump  upon  him  and  ride  him 
down  to  the  stream  that  he  might  drink. 
This  the  buffalo  did  not  seem  to  mind  at 
all, — in  fact  he  rather  liked  it.  It  was  a 
laughable  and  interesting  sight  to  see  the 
dog  standing  erect  and  alert  as  a  drum- 
major,  driving  the  buffalo  at  a  gallop  to  the 
river  for  a  drink. 

No  matter  how  large  Little  Bighead  grew, 
he  did  not  outgrow  his  friendship  for  Shep. 
Even  when  the  dog  would  snap  at  his  heels 
just  in  fun,  he  always  seemed  to  understand 
that  it  was  in  play  and  that  Shep  was  still 


Little  Bighead ny 

his  good  friend.  Thus  this  strange  friend- 
ship grew,  while  the  fame  of  the  dog  who 
could  ride  a  buffalo  at  a  gallop  went  far  up 
and  down  the  state  of  Kansas. 

Two  more  incidents  from  the  rather  un- 
eventful life  of  Little  Bighead  will  serve  to 
show  why  he  and  Shep  were  such  good 
friends,  and  how  the  faithful  dog  consti- 
tuted himself  the  buffalo  calf's  particular 
protector. 

The  first  of  these  happened  the  spring 
after  the  Andersons  settled  down  upon 
their  new  homestead.  It  was  late  in  May 
or  early  in  June  and  the  ploughing  and 
other  spring  work  had  been  done  for  weeks. 
Spring  comes  early  upon  these  wind-swept 
prairies,  where  there  is  little  snow.  This 
particular  day  was  a  "  scorcher  "  even  upon 
the  prairies,  where  the  hot  winds  sweep 
over  the  broad  spaces  with  their  withering 
breath.  One  could  fairly  see  the  heat  shim- 
mer and  dance,  while  the  light  looked  in- 


ii8     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

tense  and  everything  seemed  much  nearer 
than  usual. 

Shep  was  lying  upon  the  ground  in  front 
of  the  cabin  fast  asleep,  his  nose  upon  his 
paws,  which  were  crossed.  Suddenly  he 
jumped  up,  uttering  a  sharp,  short  bark, 
although  there  had  been  apparently  noth- 
ing to  disturb  him.  Bennie,  who  was  lying 
upon  the  grass  near  by,  called  to  him,  think- 
ing he  had  been  dreaming. 

Shep  winked  and  blinked,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment looked  wonderingly  about,  and  then 
without  more  ado  started  for  the  creek, 
running  like  the  wind.  Bennie  looked 
after  him  in  astonishment,  but  knowing 
well  the  dog's  keen  perception  and  watch- 
fulness with  everything  about  the  place, 
started  after  him,  thinking  that  something 
out  of  the  ordinary  was  afoot. 

When  Shep  reached  the  river,  upon  a 
sand-bank  near  a  shelving  ledge  of  slate 
and  shale  he  found  his  friend  Little  Big- 


Little  Bighead  119 

head  stamping  and  snorting  at  something 
upon  the  sand  near  by. 

The  dog  was  still  thirty  or  forty  feet  away 
when  a  huge  rattlesnake  reared  its  head 
almost  to  the  calf's  nose  and  drew  back 
to  strike.  Without  a  second's  hesitation, 
although  he  well  knew  the  danger,  Shep 
sprang  between  them  and  with  a  lucky 
snap  caught  the  snake  by  the  neck  just  be- 
hind the  head.  Some  instinct  told  him 
that  his  only  safety  lay  in  holding  on,  so 
he  sank  his  teeth  deep  in  the  rattler's  neck, 
and  held  on  like  the  proverbial  puppy  to  a 
root. 

For  a  few  seconds  there  was  a  lively  time 
upon  the  sand-spit.  The  snake  writhed  and 
thrashed  horribly,  winding  his  body  and 
tail  about  the  dog's  neck  and  nearly  shut- 
ting off  his  breath,  but  by  degrees  the  rat- 
tler ceased  his  struggles,  until  at  last  he  lay 
perfectly  limp  in  the  dog's  jaws.  Then 
Shep  laid  him  down  upon  the  sand  and 


12O     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

stood  over  him,  watchful  lest  the  snake  be 
playing  him  some  trick.  In  this  attitude 
Bennie  found  them,  the  dog  growling  and 
watching  the  snake,  and  the  calf  stamping 
and  snorting  and  looking  as  though  he  did 
not  know  what  to  make  of  it. 

When  Shep  had  been  petted  and  told 
again  and  again  that  he  was  the  best  dog  in 
the  world,  Bennie  carried  the  snake  up  to 
the  cabin,  and  Shep  drove  Little  Bighead 
back  home  at  a  lively  pace,  snapping  at  his 
heels  and  barking  at  every  jump.  This  was 
clearly  the  dog's  way  of  punishing  the  fool- 
ish calf  for  his  folly  in  disturbing  the 
snake. 

The  reptile  proved  to  be  four  feet  in 
length  and  possessed  of  about  a  dozen  rat- 
tles. My  readers  will  at  once  conclude  that 
the  snake  was  a  dozen  years  old,  but  that  is 
an  error.  It  is  a  mistake  to  count  a  year 
for  each  rattle.  Mr.  Horniday  has  at  the 
Bronx  rattlesnakes  three  years  old  which 


Little  Bighead 


have  seven  rattles.  Sometimes  a  snake  will 
develop  two  rattles  a  year,  and  occasionally 
not  any.  It  all  depends  upon  how  many 
times  he  sheds  his  skin.  The  rattle  is  a 
hard  bit  of  skin  at  the  tip  of  the  tail  which 
does  not  come  off  in  the  process  of  shedding. 

The  second  time  that  Shep  came  to  the 
rescue  of  the  calf  was  the  same  year,  but  in 
late  November,  when  the  calf  was  a  year 
and  a  half  old.  It  was  a  cold  bleak  day  of 
scudding  wind-clouds  and  stinging  winds 
that  swept  the  unbroken  plains  with  great 
force.  The  ducks  had  all  gone  south 
nearly  a  month  before.  The  gopher  and 
the  prairie  dogs  had  denned  up.  The  mus- 
quash had  builded  his  house  by  the  stream 
and  everything  was  in  readiness  for  winter. 

Little  Bighead  had  wandered  half  a  mile 
up  the  creek  near  which  the  Andersons 
were  located,  looking  for  choice  bits  of  late 
grass  which  the  frost  had  overlooked. 
Shep  was  busy  on  the  side  hill  a  quarter  of 


122     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

a  mile  below  trying  to  dig  out  a  gopher, 
when  he  noticed  the  young  buffalo  coming 
down-stream  and  running  frantically. 

His  loose-jointed  legs  were  working  des- 
perately, and  his  little  spike  tail  stuck 
straight  up  with  fright.  Almost  at  the 
same  instant  that  Shep  saw  his  friend 
making  the  run  of  his  life,  he  discovered 
that  he  was  closely  followed  by  a  great  gray 
wolf,  who  was  gaining  upon  him  steadily. 

Only  the  very  largest  and  fiercest  dogs 
are  any  match  for  a  gray  wolf,  and  even 
then  they  usually  come  off  badly  in  any 
encounter  with  the  terrible  gray  fighters. 
Shep  was  not  a  large  dog,  although  he  was 
a  fair-sized  cattle  dog,  but  Little  Bighead 
was  his  friend. 

He  had  watched  over  him  and  protected 
him  ever  since  he  was  a  wobbly-kneed 
calf,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  now.  Every 
hair  upon  his  back  went  fighting  mad  and 
he  started  up  the  creek  to  meet  his  friend. 


Little  Bighead 123 

As  the  yearling  was  running  frantically 
down  the  creek  and  Shep  was  going  up,  it 
did  not  take  long  to  cover  the  intervening 
distance.  In  almost  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  tell,  the  buffalo  raced  by  a  clump  of 
bushes  where  the  faithful  dog  had  crouched 
for  his  spring  upon  the  wolf. 

The  gray  hunter  was  so  intent  upon  his 
quarry  that  the  first  intimation  he  had  of 
the  dog  was  when  Shep  sprang  full  in  his 
face  and  gripped  him  by  the  loose  skin  at 
the  side  of  the  throat. 

The  dog  had  tried  for  the  throat  grip, 
but  had  gotten  a  mouthful  of  loose  skin 
instead.  Shep  held  on  for  dear  life,  for  he 
well  knew  that  if  once  the  wolf  got  free,  he 
would  soon  make  things  interesting  for 
him,  while  the  wolf  struggled  frantically. 
Over  and  over  they  went  in  the  brush,  the 
wolfs  jaws  working  like  a  mighty  steel- 
trap,  but  they  only  clicked  upon  air. 

As  good  luck  would  have  it,  Bennie  had 


1 24     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

just  started  up  the  creek  to  look  at  some 
beaver-traps  which  he  had  set  that  fall,  and 
met  Little  Bighead  running  frantically  for 
the  stable.  The  yearling,  he  knew,  would 
not  be  running  like  that  without  cause,  so 
Bennie  hurried  in  the  opposite  direction. 
He  came  upon  Shep  and  the  struggling 
wolf  in  the  nick  of  time,  for  the  wolf  had 
just  freed  himself  and  was  in  the  act  of 
springing  upon  the  dog,  who  stood  at  bay 
and  ready  to  fight  to  the  death,  although 
he  would  have  been  overpowered  and  killed 
in  a  few  minutes. 

Bennie  raised  his  rifle  for  a  snap-shot, 
and  sent  a  bullet  whistling  over  the  wolfs 
head.  He  did  not  dare  fire  low  and  di- 
rectly at  him  for  fear  of  hitting  the  dog. 
The  gray  wolf  turned  with  a  snarl,  but  see- 
ing the  boy  with  the  rifle  and  smelling  gun- 
powder, he  disappeared  in  the  bushes  with 
a  single  bound,  leaving  Shep  and  Bennie  in 
full  possession  of  the  field. 


Little  Bighead 


So  was  it  any  wonder  after  adventures 
like  these  that  Shep  grew  to  consider  him- 
self the  particular  guardian  of  the  foolish 
buffalo,  who  did  not  know  enough  to  take 
care  of  himself,  or  that  the  young  bison 
came  to  look  upon  Shep  as  his  friend  and 
preserver,  —  his  good  angel  who  would 
always  appear  in  the  hour  of  peril  ? 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  STRANGE  RIDE 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  STRANGE  RIDE 

THE  two  years  that  had  passed,  during 
which  time  Little  Bighead  had  grown  from 
a  fuzzy  yellow  buffalo  calf  into  a  sturdy 
young  bull  of  eight  or  nine  hundred 
weight,  had  seen  wonders  wrought  upon  the 
land  which  the  Andersons  called  their 
homestead.  Like  all  frontier  people  they 
had  come  West  for  business.  Success  was 
not  to  be  had  merely  for  the  taking.  It 
had  to  be  wrung  from  the  earth  here  as 
anywhere  else. 

But  here  the  natural  conditions  were  of 
the  best.  All  that  nature  could  do  for  the 
fertile  acres  of  their  meadows  she  had  done. 
For  hundreds  of  years  the  silt  from  the  river 
had  been  piling  up  on  these  meadows,  un- 
til now  the  plough  turned  up  a  rich  black 


13°     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

loam,  that  did  not  give  way  to  clay,  even 
two  or  three  feet  down. 

But  some  one  had  to  hold  the  plough, 
and  sow  the  seed  and  reap  the  harvest.  All 
these  things  the  Anderson  family  were 
willing  to  do.  So  when  the  first  red  glow 
came  into  the  east  and  the  prairie  lark 
mounted  skyward,  they  had  already  turned 
their  first  furrow ;  and  long  after  the  moon 
swung  her  silver  censer  out  of  the  east 
and  the  countless  stars  appeared,  they  went 
up  and  down  the  endless  furrows. 

When  Little  Bighead  was  two  years  old, 
he  took  his  place  beside  Ulysses  and  helped 
draw  the  plough.  At  first  he  could  not 
keep  up  his  end  for  more  than  an  hour  or 
two,  as  he  was  young  and  soft,  but  by 
degrees  he  toughened  and  his  muscles 
strengthened,  until  when  he  was  three  or 
four  years  old,  he  became  as  strong  and 
faithful  as  any  ox. 

It    was    for    his    young  master  Bennie, 


A  Strange  Ride  131 

though,  that  he  best  loved  to  work.  Ben- 
nie  had  broken  him  to  harness  and  also 
taught  him  to  drive  under  the  whip  like  an 
ox.  Bennie  could  summon  him  from  any 
part  of  the  farm  as  far  as  he  could  hear  his 
master's  prolonged  call,  at  the  sound  of 
which  the  young  buffalo  would  come  trot- 
ting or  galloping  from  the  more  distant 
portions  of  their  homestead.  He  knew 
well  that  Bennie  would  reward  his  faithful- 
ness with  a  turnip,  or,  if  he  could  not  do 
any  better,  that  he  would  pull  him  a  tender 
wisp  of  grass. 

But  as  the  buffalo  grew  strong  of  limb 
and  broad  of  back,  the  name  Little  Bighead, 
which  had  described  him  to  a  nicety  the 
morning  Bennie  had  found  him  upon  the 
north  bank  of  the  Missouri,  hidden  by  old 
Brindle  under  a  cottonwood,  became  a  sad 
misfit.  His  head  was  no  longer  so  badly 
out  of  proportion  to  the  rest  of  his  body. 
So  finally  Bennie  rechristened  him,  and  he 


iy,     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

received  the  rather  homely  but  substantial 
name  of  Buck,  a  name  well  fitted  to  the 
sturdy  ox  that  he  had  become. 

Not  only  did  the  Andersons  improve 
their  land,  but  they  also  finally  builded  a 
very  respectable  log  cabin.  This  was  after 
the  quarters  for  the  animals  had  been  en- 
larged and  improved.  In  fact,  the  live 
stock  finally  went  into  the  dugout  that  the 
family  had  themselves  first  used.  It  is 
always  the  way  of  frontier  people  to  first 
provide  for  the  stock  and  then  for  the 
humans. 

The  third  year  of  their  sojourn  in  this 
new  fertile  land  a  Swedish  family  settled 
three  miles  down  the  river,  and  the  Ander- 
sons had  neighbors.  Before,  their  nearest 
neighbors  had  been  eight  miles  away,  still 
farther  down  the  Kansas. 

Also  when  Buck  was  three  years  old 
Bennie  made  a  sledge  or  sled  to  which  he 
hitched  the  buffalo  whenever  he  wanted 


A  Strange  Ride  133 

to  go  on  a  journey.  This  sled  was  a  rude 
home-made  affair,  although  it  did  good 
service.  It  was  made  by  cutting  two  ash 
poles  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  long,  and  perhaps 
three  inches  in  diameter  at  the  butt.  These 
poles  were  peeled  and  then  the  larger  end 
was  heated  very  hot  by  holding  it  for  a  time 
in  a  bed  of  live  coals,  but  not  long  enough 
to  set  it  on  fire.  This  made  the  poles  pliable, 
so  that  they  could  be  bent  without  breaking. 
One  end  was  then  curved  nicely  to  make 
a  runner,  and  the  shaping  of  the  rest  of 
the  sled  was  easy. 

After  the  snow  had  come,  this  vehicle 
was  used  to  haul  light  loads  of  wood,  or  al- 
most anything  that  they  wished  to  haul. 
Even  upon  bare  ground  it  would  slip 
over  the  thick  buffalo  grass  quite  easily. 

When  the  first  snow  had  come,  on  very 
cold  days  the  prairie  chickens,  which  were 
plentiful,  would  dive  under  the  snow  to  keep 
warm.  Then  it  was  that  Bennie  and  his 


134     The  K*n9  °f  the  Thundering  Herd 

father  would  drive  about  with  this  rude 
sled,  using  Buck  as  a  horse,  hunting  the 
chickens.  As  the  sled  went  crunching 
through  the  snow,  it  would  scare  up  the 
game,  which  would  fly  a  dozen  rods  or  so, 
and  then  plump  down  in  the  snow.  They 
would  mark  the  spot,  and  then  Bennie 
would  creep  up  carefully  and  shoot  the 
chicken  with  his  rifle.  In  this  way  seventy- 
five  or  a  hundred  birds  could  be  secured  in 
a  day. 

When  they  got  them  home  they  simply 
ripped  the  skin  off  the  breast  and  cut  out 
that  large  fine  chunk  of  meat,  throwing  away 
the  rest  of  the  bird.  These  chicken  breasts 
were  salted  down,  and  it  was  not  an  uncom- 
mon thing  for  the  Andersons  to  have  half  a 
barrel  of  this  meat  on  hand  at  a  time.  This 
seems  like  a  great  waste  to  us,  but  the  coun- 
try was  new  and  swarmed  with  game  and 
fish,  so  the  settlers  merely  took  what  they 
could  get  the  easiest,  and  if  they  were  ex- 


A  Strange  Ride  135 

travagant,  nature  was  prodigal,  and  always 
supplied  them  more  than  they  could  use. 

The  same  fall  Bennie  and  Buck  went 
upon  a  journey  of  fifty  miles  to  the  small 
frontier  town  of  Pine  Bluffs,  where  there 
was  to  be  a  merrymaking,  according  to  the 
ideas  of  a  rough  frontier  people.  Husking 
was  done,  and  the  hard-working  plains-folk 
were  in  for  a  good  time.  There  was  to  be  a 
turkey-shoot,  some  horse-races,  and  a  wolf- 
hunt  at  the  end. 

It  was  Bennie's  wish  to  exhibit  his  buffalo, 
and  particularly  to  have  the  people  see  Shep 
ride,  for  the  fame  of  this  bareback  rider  had 
traveled  far. 

They  were  two  or  three  days  making  the 
trip,  but  finally  reached  their  destination, 
where  they  were  cordially  received  accord- 
ing to  the  frontier  way,  which  is  to  give  the 
stranger  the  best  in  the  house. 

In  the  turkey-shoot  Bennie  easily  distin- 
guished himself,  although  he  did  not  get 


136     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

first  prize,  which  went  to  a  grizzled  old 
Kentuckian ;  but  Bennie  was  glad  enough 
to  rank  second  among  these  sure  shots. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  he  could  shoot,  for 
his  little  rifle  had  scarcely  been  out  of  his 
hands  for  the  past  six  years.  Away  back 
in  Indiana,  when  he  was  a  slip  of  a  boy,  he 
had  learned  to  plug  squirrels  through  the 
head,  and  this  made  the  large  game  of  the 
plains  an  easy  mark. 

Bennie  entered  Buck  in  the  races,  which 
were  running  races  between  the  scrub  ponies 
and  broncos.  In  the  short  distance  Buck 
could  not  start  quickly  enough  to  win,  but 
in  a  five-mile  race  across  rough  country  he 
easily  came  in  ahead,  to  the  great  delight 
of  the  crowd,  which  roared  itself  hoarse  as 
the  ponderous  buffalo  came  pounding  in  at 
the  home-stretch. 

But  greatest  of  all  was  the  interest  in  the 
dog  rider.  Shep  was  such  a  good-natured 
dog  that  he  had  won  the  hearts  of  all,  even 


A  Strange  Ride  137 

before  they  saw  him  ride,  but  after  that 
astonishing  event,  which  was  the  nearest 
approach  to  a  circus  that  the  frontier  could 
boast,  he  was  fairly  spoiled  with  petting 
and  admiration.  He  punctuated  all  his 
riding  with  a  sharp,  imperative  voice,  that 
urged  the  buffalo  to  his  fastest  pace,  but  he 
also  did  many  things  similar  to  those  done 
by  circus-dogs  which  have  been  trained  to 
ride  for  exhibition. 

He  would  ride  standing  perfectly  erect, 
and  straight  as  a  drum-major.  Then  he 
would  ride  lying  down,  as  though  he  were 
an  Indian  trying  to  escape  arrows  or  bullets. 
Then  he  would  turn  about  and  ride  with  his 
head  toward  the  buffalo's  tail,  and  all  the 
time  his  face  was  covered  with  a  doggish 
grin  that  plainly  said,  "  Don't  you  see  how 
well  I  can  do  it  ?  " 

But  the  most  wonderful  thing  of  all  that 
our  circus-dog  did  was  to  mount  while  the 
buffalo  was  in  motion.  First,  Bennie  would 


138     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

hold  Shep,  who  was  all  eagerness,  trembling 
and  panting  to  do  his  trick,  while  Buck 
trotted  slowly  by.  At  just  the  right  mo- 
ment Bennie  would  let  go  the  dog's  collar, 
and  Shep  would  spring  lightly  to  the  buf- 
falo's back. 

Then  Buck  would  be  called  back,  and 
sent  by  at  a  sharp  trot  when  the  dog  would 
mount  as  before.  But  when  Shep  bounded 
lightly  to  his  uncertain  seat  and  gained  his 
balance,  while  the  buffalo  was  going  at  a 
pounding  gallop,  the  settlers  fairly  yelled 
themselves  hoarse. 

All  good  times,  however,  come  to  a  close, 
and  so  this  one  did,  for  finally  the  fun 
was  over,  and  Bennie  hitched  Buck  into 
the  sled  and  they  started  home,  feeling  well 
repaid  for  their  trouble,  although  the  out- 
ing going  and  coming,  and  two  days  at  the 
Bluffs,  had  consumed  nearly  a  week. 

When  Buck  was  four  years  old,  and  Ben- 
nie was  a  stalwart,  self-reliant  boy  of  fifteen, 


A  Strange  Ride 139 

he  decided  to  take  a  long  journey  going 
northward  for  several  hundred  miles,  up 
into  the  very  heart  of  the  buffalo  country. 
The  mighty  herds  that  he  had  seen  four 
years  before,  while  crossing  the  prairies  of 
Missouri  in  the  schooner,  were  now  no 
longer  seen  in  such  numbers,  although  the 
slaughter  of  the  northern  herd  had  not  yet 
begun.  But  as  though  in  premonition  of 
the  coming  disaster,  they  withdrew  of  their 
own  accord. 

The  mighty  herd  that  had  thundered 
past  on  that  eventful  night,  when  the  emi- 
grants lay  trembling  with  fright  under  the 
schooner,  had  gripped  the  boy's  imagina- 
tion. He  longed  to  see  its  counterpart 
again ;  to  feel  once  more  the  solid  prairie 
shake  as  though  with  the  passing  of  an 
earthquake  and  to  see  the  shaggy  frontlets 
of  buffalo  bulls  as  countless  as  the  stars. 

His  mother  was  very  loath  to  let  him  go. 
The  Indians  all  along  the  frontier  were  of 


140     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

uncertain  temper.  While  most  of  them 
pretended  friendliness  for  the  time  being, 
yet  they  would  often  take  pot-shots  at  the 
frontiersman  from  behind  friendly  trees. 

But  Bennie  had  been  brought  up  in  an 
atmosphere  of  danger.  His  life  was  inured 
to  hardship,  and  a  love  of  adventure  tingled 
in  his  veins.  He  wanted  to  see  the  world, 
just  as  the  normal  country  boy  wants  to  see 
the  city.  The  only  world  that  was  at  hand 
for  him  to  explore  was  the  wilderness  to  the 
northwest. 

For  a  long  time  his  father  was  in  doubt 
as  to  whether  he  would  let  him  go.  He 
felt  himself  that  there  was  some  danger  in 
the  trip,  but  when  he  saw  how  restive  his 
son  was,  and  how  he  longed  to  be  off,  he 
finally  gave  his  consent. 

It  was  a  memorable  day  in  the  life  of  the 
Anderson  family  when  Bennie,  mounted 
upon  Buck,  carrying  his  small  rifle  and  the 
Colt's  revolver,  and  with  a  rude  tent  and 


A  Strange  Ride  141 

camp-supplies  lashed  behind  him,  started 
forth  on  his  trip. 

His  mother  kissed  him  through  blinding 
tears,  for  she  felt  as  though  she  would  never 
see  him  again,  while  Tommy  was  all  tears 
because  he  could  not  go  too.  Mr.  Anderson 
gripped  the  boy's  hand  with  a  clasp  that  he 
recalled  for  many  days,  and  bade  him,  as  he 
loved  his  parents,  to  take  good  care  of  him- 
self and  not  run  any  useless  risks. 

It  was  a  crisp  morning  in  late  September 
and  the  outlines  of  the  distant  bluffs  along 
the  river  were  wrapped  in  a  blue  haze 
almost  like  smoke.  A  few  flight  birds  had 
already  begun  their  long  journey  south- 
ward, and  there  was  evidence  that  others 
would  soon  follow,  for  small  flocks  could  be 
heard  chattering  among  the  wild  plums 
and  in  the  brambles.  The  young  prairie- 
chickens  were  nearly  grown  and  very  plen- 
tiful. Game  that  would  have  delighted 
the  palate  of  an  epicure  could  be  had 


142     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

merely  for  the  price  of  powder  and  ball. 
The  air  was  like  new  wine,  causing  the 
blood  to  tingle  and  the  heart  to  throb  with 
joy,  and  the  body  to  exult  in  its  strength. 

Bennie  thought  that  the  world  had  never 
looked  so  fair,  or  life  seem  so  sweet  as  on 
this  morning.  It  was  the  only  vacation 
that  he  had  taken  since  they  came  West, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  the  trip  to 
the  Bluffs,  where  he  had  given  the  exhibi- 
tion of  Shep's  riding.  Poor  old  Shep, 
how  he  had  teased  to  come  along.  The 
last  sight  of  home  and  the  home  friends 
that  the  boy  remembered  was  the  friendly 
face  of  Shep  gazing  over  the  distant  hilltop 
after  his  young  master. 

For  the  better  part  of  the  way  they  went 
at  a  slow  trot,  which  might  perhaps  cover 
three  miles  an  hour.  This  gait  was  varied 
by  occasionally  stopping  to  walk,  or  some- 
times Bennie  put  Buck  to  his  cumbersome 
gallop,  which,  considering  the  size  of  the 


A  Strange  Ride  143 

buffalo,  was  a  surprisingly  fast  pace.  This 
gait  did  not  seem  to  tire  Buck  and  it  gave 
a  little  added  excitement  and  varied  the 
monotony. 

Each  evening  they  camped,  preferably 
near  to  water,  and  the  boy  turned  his  buf- 
falo steed  out  to  grass. 

It  was  while  in  camp  at  night  that  he 
most  missed  the  home  friends,  and  Shep. 
On  some  of  those  lonely  nights  when  the 
coyotes  were  howling  and  he  seemed  utterly 
alone  in  the  vast  endless  prairies,  what 
would  he  not  have  given  to  pillow  his  head 
upon  the  warm  coat  of  Shep,  and  feel  his 
confiding,  snuggling  muzzle  in  his  hand. 

Two  weeks  of  this  leisurely  traveling 
brought  him  to  the  La  Platte,  a  broad, 
shallow  river  which  he  forded,  and  then 
once  more  pushed  on  to  the  northwest, 
following  in  a  general  way  the  course  of  the 
buffalo  trails. 

It  was  not  many  days  before  the  buffalo 


144     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

signs  began  to  multiply.  The  northern 
herd  had  not  yet  felt  the  inroads  of  the 
robe-hunters,  although  in  the  four  years 
since  the  Andersons  had  come  West,  the 
southern  herd,  numbering  hundreds  of 
millions  of  head,  had  nearly  disappeared. 

Man  was  not  alarmingly  destructive  to 
the  buffalo  beyond  the  distance  at  which  he 
could  readily  pack  his  hides  into  market,  so 
buffalo  were  still  found  in  great  numbers  a 
hundred  miles  north  of  the  Union  Pacific 
road.  Gradually,  however,  as  the  steam- 
boats plying  upon  the  Missouri  River,  to 
accommodate  the  settlements  that  sprang  up 
like  mushrooms  in  a  single  night  upon  its 
banks,  grew  more  numerous,  the  herds 
were  forced  farther  north  and  northwest, 
until  they  finally  took  refuge  in  the  Dako- 
tas  and  Montana. 

Two  weeks  of  traveling,  in  the  manner 
already  described,  carried  our  young  ex- 
plorer well  into  the  territory  of  Dakota, 


A  Strange  Ride  145 

and  he  now  began  to  see  buffalo  in  such 
numbers  that  he  was  again  reminded  of  the 
great  herd  they  had  seen  in  Northern 
Missouri  four  years  before. 

Every  slope  upon  the  prairie  was  dotted 
with  them, — buffalo  feeding  and  lying 
down,  bulls  and  cows,  calves  and  yearlings ; 
rusty  old  bulls  with  their  coat,  much  of 
which  was  still  unshed,  hanging  in  tatters, 
and  sleek  young  bulls  shining  like  satin ; 
nervous  young  heifers  with  their  first 
calves,  and  demure  old  cows  that  had 
mothered  many  a  sturdy  calf. 

Not  only  was  the  landscape  literally 
covered  with  bison,  but  their  signs  were 
everywhere :  buffalo  trails  leading  to  the 
creeks  cut  three  feet  deep  in  the  solid 
earth  ;  cotton  woods  and  sycamores  entirely 
stripped  of  their  bark  in  the  rubbing  proc- 
ess, the  turf,  in  good  feeding  places,  liter- 
ally covered  with  buffalo  chips.  This  in 
turn  enriched  the  grass  and  made  the  next 


146     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

year's  feeding  all  the  better,  so  the  buffalo 
gave  where  he  took,  and  the  earth  was  not 
denuded  for  long. 

For  the  greater  part,  the  bison  seemed 
peaceable  enough  among  themselves  al- 
though there  was  occasionally  a  fight  to 
the  death  among  the  bulls,  where  some 
king  of  the  herd  was  being  dethroned. 

While  Bennie  stayed  upon  the  back  of 
Buck,  he  attracted  no  attention,  but  as 
soon  as  he  dismounted,  he  was  an  object  of 
suspicion  and  disfavor.  He  soon  learned 
that  it  was  well  to  keep  within  easy  reach 
of  Buck,  who  was  his  refuge  as  far  as  the 
buffalo  were  concerned. 

He  occasionally  came  across  Indian 
signs, — an  old  abandoned  camp,  or  a  trail 
where  an  entire  village  had  been  moving, 
the  dragging  of  their  lodge-poles  making  a 
very  plain  track — and  on  one  or  two  oc- 
casions met  with  friendly  hunting  parties. 
One  advantage  he  had  in  riding  his  buffalo 


A  Strange  Ride  147 

was  that  he  left  no  trail  which  an  inquisi- 
tive and  hostile  Indian  could  translate  as 
connected  with  a  white  man.  Bison-tracks 
covered  the  earth  in  all  directions,  and 
Buck's  were  just  like  the  rest.  If  he  had 
been  riding  a  pony,  Bennie  did  not  doubt 
that  he  would  have  had  a  bunch  of  Indians 
trailing  him  long  before.  Since  he  traveled 
upon  a  buffalo,  however,  his  most  advan- 
tageous course  was  to  keep  where  the  bison 
were  most  plentiful ;  so  he  went  in  the 
thick  of  the  herd. 

Three  weeks  more  he  journeyed  to  the 
northwest,  going  along  the  course  of  the 
Missouri,  or  keeping  near  to  it,  and  the 
wonder  of  the  land  and  the  countless  incon- 
ceivable host  of  the  bison  grew  upon  him 
all  the  time.  Three  weeks  more  carried 
him  well  up  into  what  is  now  Southern 
Dakota,  and  still  the  numbers  of  bison 
grew,  rather  than  diminished.  But  what 
would  our  young  explorer  have  thought 


1 48     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

could  he  have  seen  the  landscape  as  a  whole, 
for  six  or  eight  hundred  miles  to  the  north- 
west and  the  north  ?  What  would  he  have 
said  if  you  had  told  him  that  he  could  have 
traveled  for  two  months  more,  away  up 
through  the  Dakotas  into  what  is  now 
Montana,  and  almost  to  the  Canadian  border, 
and  that  nearly  every  hillside  in  all  that 
distance  would  have  been  dotted  with 
buffalo ;  that  to  the  north  through  what  is 
now  North  Dakota,  they  were  just  as  thick, 
an  innumerable  host,  like  the  trees  in  an 
endless  forest,  always  stretching  on  with 
new  vistas  ahead,  overwhelming  in  their 
countless  array  ?  If  you  had  told  him  these 
things,  he  might  have  been  incredulous, 
which  would  not  have  been  strange,  for  old 
hunters,  who  have  pursued  buffalo  all  their 
lives,  have  been  thunder-struck  when  they 
have  gone  upon  such  an  exploration  as  this. 
One  day  on  the  fifth  week  of  his  journey 
Bennie  came  to  a  rather  large  creek  flowing 


A  Strange  Ride  149 

down  from  the  north  and  emptying  into  the 
Missouri,  and  for  a  diversion  he  left  the 
larger  river  to  follow  the  creek. 

After  a  two  days*  journey  he  discovered 
that  it  was  a  favorite  feeding-ground  for  the 
bison.  For  a  mile  on  each  side  the  creek 
was  flanked  with  a  beautiful  meadow  which 
reminded  Bennie  of  the  home  acres.  Upon 
these  meadows  the  grass  was  still  green  and 
the  feeding  was  excellent. 

One  evening,  just  at  dusk,  he  came  out 
upon  the  top  of  a  swell  about  two  miles  from 
the  creek.  The  weather,  that  had  been  ideal 
for  the  entire  trip,  was  now  threatening. 
Heavy  thunder-heads  were  rolling  up  in  the 
west,  and  even  while  he  gazed  at  the  lower- 
ing clouds,  a  low  rumble  of  thunder  was 
heard.  For  five  minutes  Bennie  sat  watch- 
ing the  storm  develop,  and  then  he  thought 
of  shelter.  The  bison  seemed  ill  at  ease. 
Low  complaining  bellows  came  floating 
over  the  prairies  from  every  direction,  min- 


1 50     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

gled  with  the  disturbed  bleatings  of 
calves.  It  was  as  though  the  herd  shared 
the  tumult  in  the  breast  of  mother  na- 
ture. 

Then  came  a  bright  flash  of  lightning  and 
a  heavy  peal  of  thunder  and  the  bison  began 
massing  in  small  compact  bunches.  These 
in  turn  gravitated  toward  a  common  center, 
and  almost  before  Bennie  was  aware  of  what 
was  happening,  he  and  Buck  were  in  the 
midst  of  a  great  restless  multitude  of  bison 
which  stretched  away  for  a  dozen  rods  in 
every  direction.  His  first  thought  was  to 
get  out  of  the  crush,  but  he  soon  saw  that 
it  was  impossible,  for  with  each  passing 
minute,  new  bunches  joined  themselves  with 
the  large  herd,  until  it  was  half  a  mile 
across.  This  much  Bennie  saw  before  the 
clouds  settled  over  the  earth  so  thickly  that 
he  could  no  longer  discern  the  herd  stretch- 
ing away  in  every  direction.  An  intense  ex- 
citement ran  like  an  electric  current  through 


A  Strange  Ride 151 

the  great  herd.  It  was  communicated  from 
animal  to  animal  by  rapid  breathing,  toss- 
ings  of  the  head  and  jerkings  of  the  short 
spike-like  tails,  and  the  stamping  of  many 
hoofs.  The  very  air  was  surcharged  with 
excitement. 

With  each  successive  flash  of  lightning 
and  each  reverberating  peal  of  thunder,  the 
crowding  and  pushing,  snorting  and  stamp- 
ing increased  until  the  entire  mass  was 
turbulent  like  an  angry  sea,  tossing  this 
way  and  that. 

To  add  to  the  confusion,  the  air  was  filled 
with  deep,  angry  bellows,  low  moans  from 
crowding  bulls,  and  long,  quavering  lows 
from  anxious  cows,  who  feared  that  their 
calves  might  be  killed  in  the  crush,  while 
their  lusty  offspring  added  to  the  din  by 
calling  loudly  and  persistently  for  their 
dams. 

For  half  an  hour  more  Buck  and  Bennie 
crowded  and  pushed,  fighting  for  their 


1 52     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

position  in  the  excited  herd,  while  the  light- 
ning and  the  thunder  constantly  increased. 
Then  for  a  minute  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
fireworks  of  the  heavens ;  but  the  elements 
were  merely  gathering  strength,  for  presently 
there  was  a  flash  so  bright  that  Bennie  saw 
the  entire  herd  as  plainly  as  though  it  had 
been  broad  daylight.  The  great  shaggy 
heads  of  the  bulls  with  their  black  beards 
and  their  eyes,  usually  mild  enough,  now 
blazing  with  fear  and  rage,  loomed  up  before 
him.  For  a  thousandth  part  of  a  second 
every  detail  of  the  scene  stood  out  like  a  hid- 
eous nightmare;  then  there  was  a  peal  of 
thunder  that  seemed  fairly  to  crack  the 
heavens.  Again  and  again  it  rolled  from 
horizon  to  zenith,  snapping  and  snarling 
like  the  very  demon  of  destruction. 

The  pent-up  fear  of  the  herd  now  broke 
all  bounds.  For  a  moment  they  swayed 
this  way  and  that,  and  then  with  one  im- 
pulse they  were  off,  crowding,  pushing, 


A  Strange  Ride  153 

thundering,  pounding,  making  the  solid 
earth  to  shake  as  though  with  the  passing 
of  an  earthquake. 

At  first,  the  herd  moved  slowly,  just  as 
an  avalanche  or  any  other  of  the  great  de- 
structive forces  of  nature  move,  but  like 
the  avalanche  it  gained  headway  with  each 
passing  second.  With  each  added  moment 
the  pounding  of  tens  of  thousands  of  hoofs 
grew  louder  until  it  was  like  the  constant 
thunder  of  mighty  breakers  upon  the  beet- 
ling cliffs. 

Sometimes  they  were  crowded  together 
like  cattle  in  a  cattle  car,  and  then  they 
would  sway  apart,  and  there  was  freedom 
for  both  man  and  beast.  Whither  they 
were  going,  God  only  knew.  Bennie  had 
no  idea  whether  it  was  north,  south,  east, 
or  west,  whether  they  were  out  in  the  open 
prairie  or  still  in  the  meadows,  whether  the 
next  ten  jumps  would  carry  them  safely 
over  the  solid  earth,  or  whether  they  would 


1 54     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

plunge,  a  horrible  frenzied  mass,  into  a 
coulee  or  a  canyon. 

But  one  thing  was  certain,  whether  the 
way  was  smooth,  or  rough,  the  herd  would 
still  sweep  on.  What  would  it  matter  if  a 
few  score  head  went  into  the  bottom  of  a 
gulch  to  bridge  over  the  crevasse  that  the 
rest  might  cross  ?  The  entire  mass  was 
fear-mad,  wholly  without  sense  of  wisdom, 
even  without  their  usual  intuition,  rushing 
like  a  tidal  wave,  a  sea  of  tense  muscles 
and  straining  sinews,  to  what  end  no  one 
could  tell. 

Bennie  dropped  the  little  rifle  that  he 
treasured  above  almost  any  other  posses- 
sion in  the  world,  and  buried  his  hands  in 
the  long  thick  hair  of  Buck.  He  set  his 
teeth  hard  and  gripped  the  sides  of  the 
buffalo  with  his  legs.  The  roar  of  those 
myriad  hoofs  was  like  constant  thunder  in 
his  ears.  His  heart  was  sick  within  him. 
Would  he  ever  see  home  and  friends  again  ? 


A  Strange  Ride i_55 

Then  he  wished  with  all  his  soul  that  he 
had  not  come  upon  this  expedition.  Why 
had  he  not  heeded  his  mother's  advice  and 
stayed  peacefully  at  home?  If  they  were 
to  plunge  into  an  abyss,  he  would  be 
ground  to  pulp.  His  friends  would  not 
even  know  what  had  become  of  him. 
There  would  be  no  one  to  tell  of  his  tragic 
fate. 

The  smell  of  the  heated,  straining  wild 
cattle  rose  pungently  to  his  nostrils.  Was 
the  whole  world  one  rushing,  seething  herd 
of  maddened  bisons  ?  So  it  seemed  to  the 
terrified  boy. 

Once  Buck  plunged  into  a  deep  hole  and 
Bennie  nearly  lost  his  seat,  but  by  a  great 
effort  the  buffalo  recovered  himself  and 
they  thundered  on.  Bennie  shuddered  to 
think  what  would  have  become  of  him 
had  the  bison  fallen.  This  experience  was 
barely  over  when  the  buffalo  began  floun- 
dering about  as  though  in  a  quagmire. 


156     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Mud  and  water  were  thrown  up  in  showers. 
Twice  Buck  seemed  stuck  beyond  hope  of 
recovering  his  power  to  move.  But  with 
mighty  wrenchings  he  freed  himself  and 
swept  on  with  the  rest  of  the  floundering 
mass. 

For  five  minutes  more  they  thundered  on 
and  then  suddenly  the  herd  seemed  jam- 
ming in  front  of  them.  Buck  sheered  off  to 
the  right,  making  his  way  through  a  little 
opening  that  had  appeared  at  just  the  nick 
of  time.  Then  he  gave  a  great  leap  down 
a  steep  bank  and  Bennie  nearly  went  over 
his  head.  But  slipping  and  sliding  the 
buffalo  came  to  good  footing  again,  and 
after  scrambling  up  a  corresponding  bank 
they  again  swept  on  with  the  herd. 

It  was  now  raining  hard  and  the  thun- 
der and  lightning  had  ceased.  Gradually 
the  herd  slackened  its  pace.  By  degrees 
the  thunder  of  their  myriad  hoofs  grew 
less,  and  just  as  the  madness  had  come  upon 


A  Strange  Ride 157 

them,  it  went.  They  slowed  down  to  a 
trot,  then  to  a  walk. 

The  clouds  now  rolled  away  and  the 
moon  came  out.  By  its  rather  dim  light, 
Bennie  could  see  the  great  herd  slowly 
disintegrating,  the  large  herd  breaking  up 
into  small  ones,  and  these  in  turn  gradually 
spreading  out  into  the  old  company,  like 
feedingcattle  in  the  home  pasture  in  Indiana. 

With  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  and  a  silent 
prayer  to  heaven,  returning  thanks  for  his 
escape,  just  as  his  mother  had  taught  him 
to  do  for  little  things  when  he  was  a  small 
child,  Bennie  slid  to  the  ground  and  felt 
himself  over.  He  seemed  to  be  entirely 
whole.  Buck,  too,  was  all  right,  only  he 
was  covered  with  mud  from  head  to  tail. 
But  the  principal  thing  was  that  they  were 
safe.  Then  and  there  the  boy  vowed  that 
with  the  coming  daylight  he  would  start 
for  home  and  not  risk  his  neck  any  more 
in  this  wildcat  manner. 


158     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

The  following  morning  Bennie  went  back 
over  the  trail  of  the  stampede  as  nearly  as 
he  could,  looking  for  the  little  rifle  that  he 
prized  so  highly,  but  found  nothing  of  it, 
although  he  made  some  discoveries  concern- 
ing the  stampede. 

He  found  that  the  gulch  into  which  they 
had  plunged,  when  he  had  been  so  nearly 
unseated,  varied  greatly  in  depth.  In  some 
places  it  was  twenty  or  thirty  feet  deep, 
while  in  others  there  was  merely  a  sharply 
sloping  bank.  It  was  at  such  a  point  that  he 
and  Buck  must  have  made  their  passage. 

At  one  point,  where  it  was  deeper  than 
anywhere  else,  there  was  a  pitiful  sight,  for 
the  crevasse  had  been  filled  entirely  full  of 
buffalo  and  the  rest  of  the  herd  had  passed 
over  upon  the  bodies  of  their  fallen  comrades. 

The  gorge  was  still  piled  with  dead  and 
maimed  bison,  many  of  them  kicking  and 
thrashing,  and  their  bawling  and  moaning 
could  be  heard  for  a  mile. 


A  Strange  Ride  159 

He  also  found  the  morass  through  which 
he  and  Buck  had  plunged  their  way.  They 
had  been  more  fortunate  than  many  of  the 
herd,  for  scores  of  bison  still  foundered  in 
the  quicksands,  some  of  them  just  showing 
above  the  black  earth  which  was  soon  to 
engulf  them. 

Heart-sick  at  such  sights,  and  shudder- 
ing at  what  he  had  so  narrowly  missed, 
Bennie  turned  Buck's  head  southward,  and 
started  back  toward  the  Missouri  with  all 
possible  speed. 

One  more  adventure  he  had  that  might 
have  had  a  tragic  ending,  but  did  not. 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  Missouri  and 
was  riding  leisurely  along,  just  at  dusk, 
when  he  noticed  a  great  commotion  among 
the  buffalo  half  a  mile  behind  him.  He  was 
upon  a  rise  in  the  prairie  and  in  a  good 
position  to  see,  so  stopped  for  a  moment  to 
investigate. 

Presently  the  cause  for  their  fright  was 


160     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

apparent,  for  half  a  dozen  mounted  Indians 
were  discovered  riding  among  them,  shoot- 
ing with  bow  and  arrows  instead  of  fire- 
arms. That  was  why  their  approach  had 
been  so  silent,  and  Bennie  had  known  noth- 
ing of  the  hunt  until  this  stirring  scene 
came  almost  under  his  eyes.  Presently  he 
could  hear  the  excited  yells  of  the  Indians, 
and  as  he  did  not  know  whether  they  were 
peaceful  or  hostile,  and  as  all  Indians  were 
more  or  less  dangerous,  he  started  Buck  for- 
ward at  his  best  pace  and  rode  hard  all 
night  and  all  the  next  day. 

At  last  familiar  scenes,  peculiarities  in 
the  landscape  that  he  had  noted  in  the  trip 
up,  began  to  reappear.  Finally  he  was  able 
so  to  time  the  return  trip  that  he  could  stop 
at  his  old  camping-places  each  night.  Now 
his  only  thought  was  to  get  back  home,  so 
he  bent  his  every  energy  to  covering  the 
distance  between  himself  and  father  and 
mother  and  brother. 


A  Strange  Ride  161 

On  the  way  out,  he  had  often  gone  aside 
from  his  course  for  half  a  day,  but  now 
there  were  no  digressions  of  this  nature. 
Something,  perhaps  it  was  the  wind,  seemed 
to  be  whispering  "  Home,  Home,  Home," 
and  the  great  Missouri  also  took  up  the  re- 
frain and  roared  it  at  all  her  shallows. 

Three  weeks  brought  the  broad  La  Platte 
River  again  in  sight.  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  the  end.  Four  or  five  days  more 
would  finish  the  long  journey. 

These  last  few  days  seemed  like  weeks, 
the  home  hunger  was  now  so  great.  Ben- 
nie  rode  late  into  the  evening  each  day  and 
broke  camp  before  daylight. 

The  fourth  day  at  about  noon  he  thought 
he  saw  a  wolf  upon  a  distant  rise  in  the 
prairie.  The  figure  was  certainly  that  of  a 
wolf.  Then  upon  the  clear  air,  which  car- 
ries sound  to  a  great  distance,  he  heard  a 
high-keyed  bark,  and  the  wolf  came  rush- 
ing toward  him  like  a  mad  creature.  For 


162     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

once  Bennie  was  wholly  deceived  and 
reached  down  for  the  Colt's  revolver,  but 
in  another  minute  faithful  old  Shep  came 
bounding  over  a  near-by  swell,  barking  glee- 
fully at  every  jump.  Frantically  he  leaped 
upon  Buck's  back  beside  his  young  master 
and  Bennie  hugged  him  with  all  his  might. 
He  was  only  a  dog  but  there  was  something 
almost  human  in  Shep's  greeting,  and  when 
Bennie  remembered  that  his  faithful  friend 
had  come  five  miles  up  the  river  to  meet 
him,  a  great  lump  gathered  in  the  boy's 
throat. 

What  a  strange  sense  it  was,  too,  that  had 
told  Shep  that  his  master  was  near.  They 
made  the  rest  of  the  trip  together  upon  the 
buffalo's  back,  and  two  hours  later  the  mead- 
ows and  the  log  cabin  and  all  the  well- 
remembered  scenes  came  in  sight,  and  the 
strange  journey  was  over. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  NEW  KING 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   NEW   KING 

THE  very  next  day  after  the  return  from 
their  long  journey  Bennie  and  Buck  went 
to  work  at  the  fall  ploughing.  They  had 
played  so  long  that  this  work  was  late,  so 
now  there  could  be  no  more  dallying. 

From  this  time  on  until  snow  flew  they 
must  go  up  and  down  the  long  furrows, 
whether  they  liked  it  or  not.  Bennie 
could  think  of  his  trip,  and  recounting 
the  many  wonderful  things  that  he  had 
seen  helped  to  vary  the  monotony.  If 
Buck  remembered,  he  gave  no  sign,  but 
Bennie  was  inclined  to  think  in  after  years 
that  he  was  thinking  in  his  dim  ox-like 
way,  all  that  autumn  while  they  were  doing 
the  ploughing. 

One   thing  was  certain,  whether  it  was 


166     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

the  trip  or  some  other  silent  influence,  this 
autumn  marked  a  change  in  the  disposition 
of  Buck.  Of  course  it  was  gradual,  but  it 
was  nevertheless  sure. 

Before  the  buffalo  had  been  as  stolid  as 
an  ox, — all  patience,  slow  in  his  movements, 
slow  to  comprehend,  and  never  ruffled  by 
anything.  Never  had  he  shown  the  slight- 
est sign  of  temper  up  to  this  autumn. 

But  he  now  became  restive.  He  would 
sometimes  stamp  the  ground  and  paw  as 
though  irritated  by  something.  He  would 
also  jerk  his  head  and  twitch  his  tail  when 
the  whip  flicked  him,  as  though  impatient 
of  being  goaded  about  by  this  ever-tickling 
lash. 

At  first  Bennie  thought  his  collar  must 
hurt  him  and  readjusted  it,  but  that  made 
no  difference.  Buck  was  clearly  out  of 
sorts  with  the  world,  or  with  his  lot,  or  with 
something. 

He   would   not  stand  the  teasing  of  his 


The  New  King  167 

old  friend  Shep  as  formerly :  when  the  dog 
nipped  at  his  heels  in  play  he  would  lash  out 
viciously  at  him,  and  if  Shep  undertook  to 
snap  at  his  nose  in  fun,  he  would  lunge  at 
him  savagely. 

His  eye  too  lost  something  of  its  mild 
ox-like  expression  and  a  sullen  fire  was 
often  seen  to  glow  in  its  depths. 

When  Buck  finally  balked  and  refused  to 
draw  the  plough  for  a  whole  half  day  Ben- 
nie  was  thunderstruck.  What  did  it  mean  ? 
He  coaxed  and  whipped  and  then  coaxed 
again  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

When  he  told  Shep  to  nip  the  buffalo's 
heels,  Buck  lashed  out  so  viciously  that 
he  sent  the  poor  dog  sprawling,  to  his  great 
astonishment  and  disgust. 

Bennie  finally  saw  that  there  was  nothing 
to  do  but  wait  upon  the  bison's  pleasure,  so 
he  unhitched  Ulysses  and  went  to  harrow- 
ing with  the  mule.  For  a  whole  half  day 
Buck  stood  in  the  furrow  gazing  off  across 


168     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

the  prairies,  not  turning  his  head  this  way 
or  that,  but  just  gazing  sullenly  ahead. 

Finally,  after  dark  his  young  master 
coaxed  him  into  the  stable.  On  the  mor- 
row he  was  back  in  the  harness  working  as 
before,  but  he  could  never  be  depended 
upon  again,  for  every  three  or  four  days  he 
would  balk,  and  nothing  could  budge  him. 

After  the  snows  came  and  he  was  stabled 
for  the  better  part  of  the  time,  he  seemed 
to  get  over  this  restlessness  and  sullennees, 
and  would  again  allow  Shep  to  ride  him  to 
the  creek  and  bark  and  caper  about  him, 
but  with  the  return  of  spring  the  old  fit 
was  upon  him  again.  Now  he  seemed  even 
more  restive  than  in  the  fall  and  he  would 
paw  and  stamp  and  throw  his  head  from 
side  to  side  at  the  slightest  provocation. 
He  clearly  was  out  of  sorts  with  all  the 
world,  and  particularly  with  his  own  lot,  but 
what  was  the  matter  no  one  seemed  to  know 
just  then. 


The  New  King 169 

One  afternoon,  when  they  had  been 
ploughing  only  three  days,  Buck  balked 
just  as  he  had  done  in  the  autumn  and  when 
Bennie  pulled  the  harness  from  him  and 
threw  it  on  the  ground  he  kicked  up  his  heels 
and  started  for  the  creek  at  his  best  pace. 

Shep  happened  to  be  in  the  field  near  by, 
watching  some  magpies,  which  were  follow- 
ing the  plough,  pick  up  worms,  and  Bennie 
called  to  him  to  go  after  the  bison.  Noth- 
ing loath,  Shep  started  after  the  truant, 
barking  gleefully  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I 
will  bring  him  back  in  a  few  minutes. 
You  just  see."  But  strange  to  relate,  his 
master  did  not  see  either  him  or  the  buffalo 
again  that  day.  Not  that  day  nor  that 
week.  In  fact,  it  was  eight  years  before 
Bennie  again  set  eyes  upon  Buck,  and 
Shep  only  returned  after  the  lapse  of  four 
months,  and  then  he  came  dragging  him- 
self painfully  home,  nearly  dead  with  hun- 
ger and  suffering. 


i  jo     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Shep,  like  his  master,  did  not  doubt  his 
ability  to  bring  Buck  back  in  a  few  min- 
utes, although  whether  he  would  be  willing 
to  work  any  more  that  day  or  not  was  quite 
another  question.  So  the  faithful  dog  gal- 
loped after  the  runaway  buffalo.  When 
Buck  reached  the  creek,  instead  of  stopping 
to  drink  and  wade  about  in  the  shallows  as 
Shep  had  expected,  the  bison  plunged  into 
the  river  and  waded  across.  There  was 
nothing  for  Shep  to  do  but  follow,  so  he 
swam  across  and  started  after  Buck,  who 
had  struck  off  across  the  meadows  going  up 
the  creek  parallel  with  it.  Shep  got  upon 
the  outside  of  him  and  by  springing  at  his 
nose  and  snapping,  tried  to  head  him  back 
toward  home,  but  Buck  would  not  be 
headed.  He  only  lunged  savagely  at  the 
dog  when  he  got  too  persistent  and  kept  on 
his  way  as  though  he  knew  quite  well 
where  he  was  going. 

When  he  had  followed  the  creek  for  two 


The  New  King 171 

or  three  miles,  he  again  crossed  it  and  turned 
back  toward  the  river,  coining  out  several 
miles  above  the  Andersons'  homestead.  In 
this  manner  he  had  entirely  circled  the 
farm  and  was  now  well  above  it  on  his  way 
northward. 

At  this  point  Shep  made  a  desperate  effort 
to  turn  the  bison  back  south.  He  snapped 
at  his  nose  until  Buck  was  in  a  frenzy  and 
would  have  done  him  real  injury  if  he 
could  have  gotten  within  reach  of  him,  but 
with  that  remarkable  agility  that  collie 
and  shepherd  dogs  have,  in  common  with 
wolves,  he  always  kept  just  out  of  reach  and 
at  the  same  time  was  within  snapping  dis- 
tance. 

Seeing  that  Buck  could  not  be  turned  in 
this  way,  he  tried  snapping  at  his  heels, 
which  caused  Buck  to  lash  out  savagely  at 
him  every  time  he  came  within  reach.  One 
thing  was  sure, — he  had  lost  all  control 
over  the  bison  ;  and  another  thing  was  also 


IJ2     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

certain, — Buck  was  headed  northward,  and 
was  evidently  intent  on  running  away  from 
his  master. 

What  was  poor  Shep  to  do?  He  had 
never  failed  his  master  yet.  When  he  had 
been  told  to  bring  home  anything,  whether 
it  was  a  steer  or  old  Buck,  he  had  always 
done  it.  So  he  kept  after  the  truant  with 
a  dogged  persistency  that  did  not  let  up 
though  the  task  seemed  almost  hopeless. 
For  three  days  they  kept  up  what  might  be 
called  a  running  fight,  Buck  trotting  or 
walking  as  best  suited  him  and  Shep  con- 
stantly going  before  him  and  barking  and 
snapping,  trying  to  head  him  back,  or  wor- 
rying at  his  heels.  Sometimes  the  buffalo 
would  stop  to  feed,  and  then  Shep  would 
sit  down  upon  his  haunches  and  watch  him, 
or  perhaps  he  would  stray  off  for  a  little 
distance  to  see  if  he  could  catch  a  gopher, 
or  dig  out  a  mole  or  a  field-mouse.  At 
such  times  Buck  would  take  advantage  and 


The  New  King  173 

try  to  slip  away  and  throw  his  friend  off 
the  scent,  but  the  sure  nose  of  Shep  always 
took  up  the  trail  and  after  perhaps  half  an 
hour  he  would  come  panting  up  with  the 
unruly  buffalo. 

Finally  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third 
day  a  painful  accident  befell  the  dog.  In 
jumping  down  the  side  of  a  coulee  after 
the  fleeing  bison,  he  stuck  a  savage  stub 
nearly  through  his  paw.  This  would  not 
have  been  so  bad  but  the  stub  broke  off 
and  left  a  bad  sliver  in  the  wounded 
member. 

For  half  an  hour  more  Shep  limped  after 
his  charge  on  three  legs,  occasionally  whim- 
pering, or  stopping  to  bite  at  his  paw,  try- 
ing vainly  to  extricate  the  stub  ;  but  finally 
the  foot  swelled  so  badly  that  he  was  obliged 
to  give  up  and  sit  down  upon  a  hillock  and 
see  Buck  gallop  away  toward  the  wester- 
ing sun  free  from  pursuit. 

Then  began  two  or  three  very  miserable 


174     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

days  for  Shep.  His  paw  swelled  to  twice  its 
natural  size,  and  pained  him  constantly. 
He  was  obliged  to  lie  still  by  the  river  and 
doctor  his  wound  the  best  he  could.  He 
dug  a  small  hole  in  the  clay  bank  of  the 
river  and  buried  his  paw  in  the  clay.  This 
helped  to  draw  out  the  inflammation. 

Finally  the  brave  dog  performed  a  sur- 
gical operation.  Biting  open  the  upper  side 
of  his  paw,  although  it  made  him  whimper 
and  quiver,  he  got  hold  of  the  end  of  the 
stub  with  his  teeth  and  pulled  it  out.  He 
then  rinsed  and  rinsed  the  throbbing  paw 
in  the  river,  thus  washing  out  all  the  pus, 
and  finally  began  a  licking  process  which 
he  kept  up  every  few  minutes  for  a  day  or 
two.  It  was  surprising  how  soon  under 
this  simple  ministration  the  wound  began 
to  heal. 

It  is  not  generally  known,  but  a  dog's 
saliva  is  both  antiseptic  and  healing,  so  that 
when  the  dog  licked  the  sores  of  Lazarus, 


The  New  King  175 

that  afflicted  man  really  had  the  very  best 
kind  of  a  doctor. 

It  was  four  days  after  the  accident, 
though,  before  Shep  was  enabled  again  to 
take  up  the  trail  of  the  fugitive,  which  by 
this  time  was  entirely  cold,  and  could  not 
be  followed  by  scent. 

One  would  naturally  think  that  the  dog 
would  have  turned  his  nose  homeward. 
The  trail  was  cold  and  his  particular  bison 
was  like  a  needle  in  a  haymow  upon  these 
endless  plains.  But  his  master's  orders, 
"  Go  bring  Buck,"  were  still  ringing  in  his 
ears,  and  he  could  not  return  without  him. 

So  Shep  started  on  up  the  river,  feeling 
quite  sure  that  the  bison  was  headed  in  that 
direction  and  that  he  would  not  go  so  very 
far  from  it.  For  a  whole  day  he  did  not 
see  a  sign  of  his  friend,  but  the  second  even- 
ing he  found  hoof  prints  in  the  sand  where 
he  thought  Buck  had  come  down  to  a  creek 
to  drink.  It  was  the  print  of  a  bison's  hoof, 


1 76     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

and  although  Shep  sniffed  at  it  several  times 
he  could  not  be  sure  that  it  was  Buck's 
track,  for  all  scent  had  left  it.  But  the  find- 
ing of  this  hoof  print  encouraged  Shep  and 
he  redoubled  his  efforts  and  fled  on  to  the 
northwest,  following  by  instinct  the  best  he 
could. 

In  the  meantime  faithless  old  Buck  had 
apparently  made  good  his  escape.  He  had 
gone  over  the  same  route  that  he  and  his 
master  had  traveled  the  autumn  before. 
This  was  probably  what  he  had  been  dream- 
ing of  in  his  stupid  ox-like  way  all  the 
time.  The  naturalist  who  says  that  certain 
animals  do  not  possess  memories,  and  very 
good  ones,  does  not  share  my  own  opinion. 
I  have  frequently  had  a  horse  turn  in  at 
some  forgotten  barway  or  wood  road,  where 
I  had  driven  him  so  long  before  that  all 
memory  of  it  had  escaped  me.  Perhaps  it 
was  five  years  or  maybe  it  was  even  ten, 
but  the  horse's  memory  was  sure. 


The  New  King  177 

So  it  was  with  Buck.  He  doubtless  re- 
called so  well  the  way  which  he  and  his  mas- 
ter had  journeyed,  that  he  could  have  gone 
over  the  trail  with  more  certainty  than  his 
master  could  have  driven  him.  But  when 
he  came  near  any  of  the  towns  or  settle- 
ments where  they  had  stopped  before,  he 
made  a  long  detour  and  came  out  on  the 
trail  beyond  the  towns.  Whether  he  feared 
that  some  one  might  drive  him  back  home, 
or  whether  it  was  his  natural  wild  instinct 
asserting  itself,  who  shall  say  ? 

Having  scouted  the  towns  safely  he 
pressed  on  with  all  speed,  at  last  reaching 
the  Missouri  and  following  it  up  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  land  of  the  bison.  As  he 
journeyed,  the  impatience  that  he  had  felt 
at  the  outset  grew  upon  him.  There  was 
something  in  that  vast  lonely  prairie  land 
that  he  wanted,  wanted  above  all  else  in 
the  world.  It  was  not  feed,  it  was  not 
water,  for  he  had  both  in  abundance.  It 


178     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

was  probably  partly  a  longing  for  his  kind, 
for  he  was  an  alien  in  the  settlement  of 
man.  His  place  was  in  the  great  herds. 
Man  had  stolen  away  his  freedom.  So  free- 
dom and  a  longing  for  his  kind  was  a  part 
of  his  great  desire,  but  there  was  still  some- 
thing else. 

He  did  not  discover  what  it  was  until  one 
moonlight  night  when  he  had  penetrated 
far  into  the  Dakotas.  He  had  seen  many 
bison  but  had  not  become  familiar  with 
them.  It  was  as  though  he  lacked  the  real 
buffalo  code  or  speech.  None  of  his  wild 
kindred  seemed  to  fraternize  with  him. 
The  bulls  usually  began  pawing  the  dirt 
about  their  heads  and  bellowing  in  an- 
ger when  he  appeared,  and  the  cows  and 
calves  seemed  rather  afraid  of  him.  The 
fact  was,  Buck  was  a  mighty  buffalo  bull, 
larger  by  two  or  three  hundred  pounds  than 
any  that  he  met.  His  work  upon  the  farm 
had  made  him  much  stronger  than  the 


The  New  King 179 

ordinary  bull,  but  he  was  a  Goliath  who 
knew  not  his  strength. 

On  this  moonlight  night  in  question  he 
was  wandering  about  in  a  restless  manner, 
seeking  something,  yet  not  knowing  just 
what  he  sought,  when  he  heard  near  at 
hand  a  high-keyed,  prolonged  bellow  that 
somehow  sounded  sweet  to  his  ears.  You 
or  I  would  have  thought  it  a  very  dismal 
call,  but  to  Buck  it  was  the  sound  for  which 
he  had  long  been  waiting.  So  he  hurried 
to  find  the  stranger,  all  elation,  blowing 
great  breaths  that  looked  like  steam  from 
his  nostrils. 

Down  by  the  creek  he  found  her,  a  young 
heifer  bison.  She  was  standing  knee-deep 
in  the  water  drinking.  When  he  came  in 
sight  she  again  lifted  her  head  and  sent  her 
tremulous  bellow  across  the  plains. 

Buck  hurried  forward  and  waded  into 
the  water  beside  her.  He  thrust  his  great 
shaggy  head  close  to  her  neck  and  she 


180     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

turned  partly  about  and  touched  his  nose 
with  hers.  As  her  warm  breath  filled  his 
nostrils  and  her  rough  tongue  stole  out  to 
caress  his  muzzle,  Buck  knew  that  he  had 
found  that  for  which  he  sought. 

The  bison  do  not  mate  permanently  as  do 
the  deer  family,  being  more  bigamous,  but 
Buck  and  the  young  heifer  stuck  closely  to 
each  other  for  several  days,  and  this  was  as 
near  a  honeymoon  as  he  could  come. 

The  company  of  the  young  heifer  satis- 
fied the  longing  that  had  made  him  so  rest- 
less ever  since  he  had  gone  into  the  land  of 
the  bison,  but  there  was  still  another  pas- 
sion within  that  would  not  let  him  rest. 

Every  time  one  of  the  belligerent  bulls 
threw  up  dust  and  bellowed  defiantly  at 
him,  he  felt  this  passion.  It  was  the  grow- 
ing lust  for  battle,  the  natural  rage  of  the 
male  against  all  other  males,  which  might 
be  possible  rivals, — rivals  in  love  or  war. 

It  is  the  nature  of  the  male,  be  it  man  or 


The  New  King 


animal,  to  want  to  dominate.  This  passion 
makes  both  mighty  generals  and  King 
Bison. 

So  as  the  battle  lust  grew  upon  Buck,  he 
began  taking  up  the  challenge  of  those  who 
defied  him,  and  soon  discovered  that  most 
of  them  were  no  match  for  him.  Each  bull 
that  he  discomfited  added  to  his  pride  and 
his  love  of  battle.  So  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore he  was  constantly  on  the  war-path,  look- 
ing for  a  bull  who  should  stand  and  give 
battle  to  the  death  when  he  challenged. 

The  fighting  of  the  bull  buffalo  is  not  as 
scientific  as  that  of  bull  moose.  He  has 
not  the  dexterity  of  the  moose.  Hence 
there  could  be  no  fine  sword-play,  with 
thrust  and  parry,  advance  and  retreat. 

With  the  bison  it  was  more  a  matter  of 
direct  attack.  To  break  down  your  adver- 
sary's guard,  to  rip  him  in  the  side  of  the 
neck,  or  to  make  him  turn  tail  and  then 
bury  the  sharp  horns  deep  in  his  soft  un- 


182     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

protected  flanks, — this  was  the  bison's  form 
of  warfare. 

But  challenging  everything  that  he  met 
soon  brought  Buck  an  adversary  that  tried 
his  last  ounce  of  strength  and  his  utmost 
cunning,  and  even  then  he  might  have  paid 
the  price  of  his  life  for  his  belligerence,  had 
not  chance  favored  him. 

It  was  about  a  week  after  Buck's  first 
meeting  with  the  young  bison  heifer,  and 
that  diversion  had  partly  worn  off  and  he 
was  ripe  for  another  venture.  This  morn- 
ing, after  getting  his  fill  of  grass,  he  had  been 
restlessly  roaming  up  and  down,  uttering 
defiant  bellows  and  putting  smaller  bulls  to 
flight  almost  as  soon  as  they  saw  him,  when 
he  came  to  a  high  butte  about  two  miles 
back  from  the  creek  which  he  was  then 
following.  There  was  a  small  herd  of  ma- 
ture bulls  about  the  base  of  the  butte  and 
there  was  some  excitement  among  them, 
for  they  moved  restlessly  to  and  fro. 


The  New  King 183 

Buck  pressed  in  among  them,  pushing 
his  great  hulk  from  point  to  point  like  the 
giant  he  was.  Soon  he  came  to  the  foot  of 
the  butte  where  he  could  see  its  summit 
plainly  and  there  upon  the  crest  of  the  em- 
inence was  the  mightiest  bison  bull  that  he 
had  ever  seen.  He  was  standing  with  head 
lowered  pawing  up  dirt  until  a  small  cloud 
of  dust  partly  enveloped  him,  but  one  could 
still  discern  his  blood-red  eyes  that  blazed 
defiantly  through  the  dust.  He  was  clearly 
outlined  against  the  sky  and  the  morning 
sun,  which  was  just  rising,  made  a  gorgeous 
background  for  the  mighty  King  of  the 
Plains,  for  this  was  the  lordly  ruler  of  all 
the  bison  in  the  northwest  country. 

By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  his  gov- 
ernment was  anything  very  definite.  He 
simply  dominated  all  the  smaller  herds  of 
which  the  larger  herd  was  composed.  His 
coat  was  much  darker  than  his  fellows, 
being  a  dark  rich  chestnut.  In  some 


184     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

lights,  or  when  it  was  wet,  it  looked  quite 
black. 

There  seemed  to  be  some  dissension  brew- 
ing among  the  bulls  who  thronged  at  the 
foot  of  the  butte,  for  every  few  minutes  one 
of  their  number  would  start  to  ascend  as 
though  to  attack  the  King  upon  his  throne. 

But  his  courage  would  soon  forsake  him 
and  he  would  satisfy  himself  by  pawing 
and  bellowing. 

Finally  there  was  one,  more  adventure- 
some than  the  rest,  who  charged  to  the  top 
of  the  bluff,  where  for  a  few  seconds  he  held 
his  own.  But  he  was  soon  discomfited  and 
came  ignominiously  rushing  back  down 
the  steep  slopes  of  the  butte,  his  flanks 
dripping  blood,  and  limping  badly  in  one 
of  his  hind  legs. 

For  half  an  hour  Buck  watched  the 
manoeuvres  of  the  rest  of  the  bulls,  his 
own  battle  spirit  growing  with  each  passing 
minute. 


The  New  King 185 

Finally  after  the  bull  who  had  returned 
in  such  hot  haste  had  gone,  he  crowded  to 
the  front  and  began  slowly  to  ascend  the 
hill,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  King 
all  the  time,  and  occasionally  pausing  to 
paw  and  bellow,  by  which  means  he  prob- 
ably was  getting  up  his  courage  for  the 
combat. 

The  King  eyed  him  belligerently  through 
his  cloud  of  dust  but  gave  no  sign  that  he 
saw  him  or  considered  him  as  a  possible 
rival. 

He  let  Buck  come  to  the  very  top  of  the 
butte  and  advance  partly  across  the  top 
and  then  he  charged  like  the  mighty  moun- 
tain of  fighting  muscle  and  sinew  that  he 
was. 

Buck  braced  himself  and  met  the  King 
squarely  and  the  shock  of  their  great  heads 
was  terrible,  but  Buck  did  not  give  way. 
Instead  he  sank  his  hoofs  deep  in  the  soil 
and  pushed,  hooking  this  way  and  that, 


i86     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

thinking  to  get  by  the  King's  guard  and  rip 
him  in  the  side  of  the  head  ;  but  the  King 
was  an  experienced  fighter  and  he  shifted 
his  head  each  time  to  meet  Buck's  move- 
ments. 

Then  Buck  tried  a  new  stratagem.  He 
shifted  his  weight  to  one  side  and  let  the 
King  push  him  back  for  several  yards, 
thinking  to  get  at  the  King's  side  in  this 
manner,  but  nothing  was  gained,  as  they 
merely  changed  ground  a  little  and  neither 
had  the  advantage. 

For  fifteen  minutes  like  mighty  giants 
they  strode  and  the  ground  was  ploughed 
deep  by  their  hoofs.  Sweat  stood  upon 
their  flanks  and  foam  dripped  from  their 
muzzles.  Their  breaths  came  in  deep 
gasps  like  a  blacksmith's  bellows.  Occa- 
sionally a  deep  grunt  escaped  from  one  or 
the  other  as  the  battle  swayed.  Buck  re- 
ceived a  bad  wound  in  the  jowl,  and  he  in 
turn  gashed  the  King  in  the  cheek. 


' 


THE  SEASONED  FIGHTER  DROVE  BUCK  TO  THE  SIDE  OF  THE  BUTTE 


The  New  King ^87 

Blood  was  now  added  to  the  foam.  It 
dripped  from  their  long  black  beards  and 
stained  the  ground,  but  neither  of  the  great 
giants  allowed  his  guard  to  be  broken 
down,  and  in  that  was  safety  to  each. 

Once  the  antagonist  got  by  the  broad 
head.  Those  sharp  upcurved  horns  could 
do  deadly  work  in  the  unprotected  parts. 

It  was  to  be  a  battle  of  endurance,  a 
struggle  for  main  strength  and  for  breath. 
He  who  could  still  stand,  when  the  other 
had  become  too  weak  to  keep  up  the  fight, 
would  clearly  be  victor. 

Here  Buck's  many  hard  days'  work  at 
the  plough  stood  him  in  good  stead.  He 
was  not  quite  as  heavy  as  the  King,  but 
more  muscular. 

The  minutes  dragged  on  and  neither  had 
the  advantage.  Five,  ten,  fifteen,  twenty 
went  by  and  still  they  fought  on. 

Finally  by  a  mighty  effort  the  seasoned 
fighter  drove  Buck  close  to  a  precipitate 


i88     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

side  of  the  butte.  If  he  gave  ten  feet  more 
he  would  be  rolled  over  the  side  and  go 
tumbling  down  to  an  ignominious  defeat. 

Perhaps  it  was  merely  an  accident,  or 
maybe  the  King  had  played  the  trick  be- 
fore. But  Buck  had  now  to  hold  his  ground 
or  go  down  to  defeat.  His  breath  came  in 
deep  gasps.  He  had  been  so  long  straining 
to  his  utmost  pound  of  strength  that  his 
sight  grew  dim  merely  from  the  effort. 
Gradually  he  felt  his  strength  waning. 
Inch  by  inch  the  King  began  forcing  him 
back  again.  Two  desperate  stands  he  made 
of  a  few  seconds  each,  but  he  was  clearly 
weakening.  His  hour  had  nearly  struck. 

At  the  very  second  when  he  seemed  de- 
feated, his  power  to  resist  all  but  gone,  there 
came  from  behind  the  heels  of  the  strug- 
gling King  a  high-keyed  bark  that  somehow 
had  a  familiar  sound  to  the  ears  of  Buck. 
He  had  heard  that  bark  somewhere  before, 
but  he  was  too  dazed  to  know  just  where. 


The  Ne<w  King 


But  there  was  something  doing  in  the 
King's  rear  that  it  behooved  him  to  take 
notice  of,  although  he  was  hardly  in  a 
position  to  do  so,  for  an  infuriated  shepherd 
dog  was  ripping  away  at  the  great  cord  just 
above  his  hock  with  teeth  like  those  of  a 
wolf.  Slash,  slash,  went  the  shepherd's 
jaws,  not  gripping  to  hold,  but  slashing  like 
a  wolf, — the  stroke  that  cuts  deep  and  sev- 
ers. 

The  King's  mighty  hind-quarters  were 
strained  to  their  utmost.  The  great  sinew 
was  tense  as  the  guy  rope  upon  a  derrick, 
so  at  the  second  slash  the  sinews  parted 
and  the  leg  sank  beneath  the  weight  of  the 
King.  His  hind-quarters  collapsed.  He 
was  borne  back,  faster  and  faster,  until  the 
struggling  bulls  had  reached  the  farther 
side  of  the  butte ;  then  he  went  rolling 
ignominiously  over  the  side  and  into  the 
waiting  herd  below.  A  King  no  more,  but 
a  crippled  three-legged  old  bull,  henceforth 


19°     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

an  outcast  and  the  legitimate  prey  for  the 
gray  pack  that  always  skulked  upon  the 
outskirts  of  the  herd. 

Buck  had  barely  recovered  from  the  sur- 
prise of  his  sudden  victory  when  he  was 
treated  to  another,  for  with  a  joyous  bark 
his  old  friend  Shep  leaped  in  his  face,  lick- 
ing his  bleeding  muzzle  with  his  long,  soft 
caressing  tongue. 

For  a  few  minutes  they  stood  thus, — Shep 
licking  his  old  comrade's  wounds  and  Buck 
permitting  himself  to  be  caressed.  Then 
Shep  leaped  upon  Buck's  back,  just  as  he 
had  done  in  the  good  old  days,  and  they 
started  down  the  side  of  the  butte  to  rejoin 
the  rest  of  the  herd. 

At  first  some  of  the  bulls  were  inclined 
to  do  battle  with  the  new  King,  for  that 
was  what  Buck  had  become  by  his  defeat  of 
the  old  King,  but  when  they  beheld  the 
strange  figure  of  Shep  upon  the  new  King's 
back,  they  were  uncertain.  A  moment 


The  New  King  191 

they  stood  eyeing  the  new  combination 
doubtfully,  and  then  most  of  them  fled 
precipitately.  They  had  no  thought  of 
fighting  with  an  adversary  that  carried  a 
wolf  upon  his  back. 

But  faithful  Shep  was  delighted  with  the 
turn  things  had  taken.  For  weeks  he  had 
followed,  going  only  by  instinct.  Some- 
times he  thought  he  was  on  the  right  track, 
and  then  he  would  have  no  clue  for  days. 
But  doggedly  he  had  hung  on  until  his 
patience  had  been  rewarded,  as  patience 
like  his  always  is,  and  he  had  found  Buck 
for  his  master. 

But  Buck  had  no  mind  to  be  driven 
back  home.  Again  and  again  Shep  tried, 
nipping  at  his  heels  and  growling  and  bark- 
ing, trying  every  art  known  to  a  cattle  dog, 
but  all  of  no  avail.  So  he  finally  cast  in 
his  lot  with  the  new  King,  going  wher- 
ever he  went,  often  riding  upon  his  back, 
and  sometimes  trotting  by  his  side. 


192     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

To  the  herd  he  was  a  wolf,  partly  feared 
and  also  despised.  He  had  been  a  wolf  to 
the  herd  all  these  weary  weeks.  Often  he 
had  been  obliged  to  skulk  for  his  life,  but 
occasionally  too  a  dead  calf  had  helped  him 
to  subsist  when  he  might  otherwise  have 
gone  hungry.  Once  a  bunch  of  a  dozen 
bulls  had  surrounded  him  just  as  they  did 
sometimes  with  an  old  gray  wolf,  and  the 
poor  dog  had  all  but  lost  his  life.  Like  a 
death-circle  they  had  closed  in  with  lowered 
heads  and  sledge-hammer  hoofs,  so  close- 
planted  that  the  beleaguered  dog  could  not 
escape  between  them.  When  they  had 
come  within  striking  distance,  he  had 
sprung  like  a  flash  upon  the  back  of  the 
nearest  bull,  and  before  the  astonished 
bison  knew  what  had  happened  he  had 
bounded  to  the  back  of  another,  and  with  a 
great  jump  had  gained  the  outside  of  the 
death-circle  and  escaped  with  his  life. 

What  a  long,  long,  lonely  hunt  it  had 


The  New  King  193 

been.  But  all  that  was  over  now.  He  had 
found  Buck,  and  perhaps  the  truant  would 
go  back  home  with  him  soon.  These  must 
have  been  the  indefinite  dog  thoughts  of 
Shep  as  he  journeyed  with  the  herd,  as  it 
began  slowly  moving  southward  on  its 
annual  autumn  migration.  The  herd  fol- 
lowed good  feed,  and  grass  was  not  to  be 
found  where  the  frost  had  laid  its  withering 
touch ;  so  it  gradually  drifted  to  the  south, 
although  you  could  hardly  call  it  a  migra- 
tion in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word.  It  was 
too  leisurely  and  too  much  without  pur- 
pose. 

But  if  the  new  King  and  his  wolf  com- 
panion were  feared  by  all  the  herd, — for  it 
is  the  way  of  animals  to  fear  things  they  do 
not  understand, — the  old  King  went  the 
way  of  all  old  Kings,  be  they  brute  or 
human.  In  his  wounded  and  crippled 
condition  he  could  not  fight  the  battle  of 
life  as  he  had  done  before,  and  he  had 


194     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

many  enemies  among  the  herd.  Too  many 
had  felt  his  sharp  horns  in  days  gone  by 
not  to  hate  him  now. 

So  they  paid  off  old  grudges  and  the  old 
King's  days  were  one  continual  fight  in 
which  he  was  always  worsted.  He  was  not 
sorry,  therefore,  when  the  gray  pack  which 
always  attends  to  cases  like  his  ran  him  into 
a  pocket  in  a  coulee  and  gradually  wore 
him  out.  For  days  he  stood  with  his  back 
to  the  walls,  fighting  his  last  fight,  and 
then  they  pulled  him  down  and  began  their 
feast  even  before  life  had  fully  left  him. 
Such  was  the  horrible  end  of  the  old  King 
according  to  the  cruel  law  of  nature,  which 
decrees  that  the  strong  shall  rule  until  they 
become  weak  and  then  they  shall  be  the 
prey  of  vultures,  or  of  jackals.  Even  the 
dead  Arabian  steed  is  no  better  crow-bait 
than  the  homely  plough-horse. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  RIGHT  OF  WAY 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   RIGHT   OF   WAY 

NUMBER  one  hundred  and  ninety,  the 
latest  model  and  the  most  powerful  loco- 
motive that  the  Baldwin  works  had  ever 
put  out,  fresh  in  her  new  coat  of  paint, 
and  burnished  brass  and  steel,  the  pride 
of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  and  the 
envy  of  the  mechanical  world,  came  thun- 
dering and  clanking  down  track  num- 
ber twenty-three  and  butted  into  the  four- 
teen elegant  cars  of  the  Overland  Flyer  with 
such  force  that  a  shudder  ran  through  the 
long  train  to  its  very  end. 

Nervous  women  started  and  said  oh,  and 
men  wondered  why  the  engineer  didn't  use 
more  care  in  backing  down  to  a  train  like 
this.  The  president  of  the  road  in  his 


198     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

special  car,  which  had  been  attached  to  the 
Flyer  for  this  special  run,  an  event  in  the 
history  of  the  road,  growled  his  disapproval 
of  the  jolt  that  his  car  got. 

A  few  minutes  later  another  locomotive, 
the  exact  counterpart  of  the  first,  came  hiss- 
ing down  the  track  and  backed  up  to  the 
train. 

These  mighty  engines  and  this  train  of 
cars  were  the  best  that  money  could  buy, 
and  the  trip  for  which  they  were  making 
up  was  to  mark  an  epoch  in  railroading.  It 
was  only  three  years  before  that  the  last 
glittering  rail  of  this  great  system  had  been 
spiked  down,  and  we  had  been  the  proud 
owners  of  the  first  trans-continental  railroad 
in  the  world.  America,  the  home  of  the 
locomotive,  was  well  in  the  lead  in  con- 
struction of  railroads.  An  attempt  was 
now  to  be  made  to  lower  the  running  time 
from  Chicago  to  Oakland  by  several  hours. 
Hence  this  new  train,  the  pride  of  the  road. 


The  Right  of  Way 199 

All  was  confusion  and  bustle.  Drays 
loaded  mountains  high  came  rumbling  over 
the  stone  floored  platform,  bringing  trunks, 
valises  and  baggage  of  all  descriptions. 
Still  other  baggage  was  being  tumbled  from 
other  vehicles  into  the  baggage-car  with 
deafening  sound.  Porters  with  both  hands 
gripping  heavy  valises  escorted  fashionable 
passengers  to  the  train.  Hackmen,  with 
less  ease  and  more  bustle,  were  performing 
the  same  tasks  for  their  fares.  There  was 
the  constant  scuff  of  myriad  feet,  punctuated 
by  the  staccato  echoes  of  impatient  boot- 
heels  which  resounded  in  the  more  distant 
and  lofty  portions  of  the  spacious  building. 
All  was  bustle  and  jostle,  push  and  squeeze. 
Haste  was  the  one  thought  of  all  that  rush- 
ing, pushing  throng. 

Men  and  women  of  all  ages  were  there, 
although  for  the  better  part  it  was  an  aristo- 
cratic company.  But  still  there  were  many 
types  of  the  frontier  life,  which  the  men 


2oo     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

used  to  this  new  hustling  West  could  easily 
tell  one  from  another. 

There  was  the  rich  cattle  buyer,  talking 
and  gesticulating  to  a  group  of  ranchmen  ; 
a  drover  and  a  bunch  of  cowboys,  who  had 
evidently  brought  their  cattle  to  Chicago 
and  who  were  now  traveling  in  state,  going 
home  upon  the  fastest  and  best  train  on 
the  continent.  There  were  mine  owners  and 
prospectors  and  occasionally  an  adventurer 
whose  calling  was  not  so  clearly  defined. 

But  all  were  now  intent  in  getting  aboard. 
The  warning  bell  upon  the  locomotive  was 
sounding.  In  another  minute  or  two  they 
would  be  off  for  that  record  run  which  was 
to  reduce  the  time  from  Chicago  to  the 
Pacific  coast. 

There  were  hurried  good-byes  from  the 
car  steps,  the  flutter  of  handkerchiefs  from 
car  windows,  shouted  admonitions  and  fare- 
wells ;  then  the  conductor  waved  his  arm 
to  the  engineer,  who  was  leaning  out  of  the 


The  Right  of  Way 2m 

cab-window  watching  for  the  signal,  and 
swung  onto  the  train.  Slowly  the  powerful 
wheels  upon  the  huge  locomotives  began  to 
revolve,  and  the  Overland  Flyer  moved 
cautiously  out  of  the  depot  on  its  time- 
breaking  trip. 

Carefully,  for  they  were  not  really  off  yet, 
as  the  engineer  would  have  said,  they  wound 
their  way  in  and  out  among  the  great  build- 
ings of  this,  the  congested  part  of  the  city. 
Across  busy  streets,  where  the  human  ants 
swarmed  like  myriad  insects ;  over  culverts 
that  spanned  narrow  and  congested  streets  ; 
through  deep  cuts  that  passed  under  other 
thoroughfares ;  bumping  over  switches  and 
cross-tracks,  feeling  their  way  carefully,  for 
they  were  still  within  the  confines  of  the 
city,  where  there  was  a  speed  limit,  and  all 
these  swarming  ants  that  came  and  went 
over  and  under  the  tracks  were  human  be- 
ings with  lives  and  limbs  that  had  to  be 
considered. 


2O2     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

By  degrees  the  streets  grew  less  and  less 
congested  and  the  way  became  clearer.  The 
buildings  were  not  so  high  as  they  had  been 
and  there  were  occasional  vacant  lots,  a  sure 
indication  that  the  suburbs  were  in  sight. 

Then  they  passed  simple  cottages  of  the 
rural  type,  and  after  fifteen  or  twenty  min- 
utes of  patient  crawling  along  the  rails,  the 
broad  unobstructed  prairies  opened  out  before 
them, — limitless  as  the  sky  and  nearly  level 
as  far  as  the  railroad  was  concerned,  for  all 
of  the  deeper  swells  had  been  slightly  filled 
and  their  tops  cut  down,  so  that  there  was 
almost  no  grade  from  Chicago  to  the  Missis- 
sippi River,  several  hundred  miles  away. 

Williams,  the  engineer,  heaved  a  deep 
sigh  of  relief  and  pulled  the  throttle  nearly 
wide  open.  "  I  always  feel  better  when  I 
get  this  far  along,"  he  said  to  the  fireman. 
"  It  does  me  good  to  give  the  old  girl  her 
head.  The  city  kinder  suffocates  me  and  I 
am  mighty  afraid  I'll  run  over  somebody  or 


The  Right  of  Way 203 

something,  but  out  here  it  is  different. 
This  is  the  kind  of  country  for  me,"  and  he 
pointed  with  his  finger  out  of  the  cab-win- 
dow to  the  free,  far  horizon  across  the 
Illinois  prairies. 

With  the  throwing  open  of  the  throttle, 
the  powerful  engine  shot  forward  like  a 
mighty  steed  given  its  head ; — not  with  a 
sudden  spurt,  for  the  long  train  behind  pro- 
hibited that,  but  with  steady  insistence. 

Each  moment  the  clamor  of  the  car- 
wheels  behind  and  the  pounding  of  the 
mighty  drivers  upon  the  rails  became  more 
thunderous.  Black  smoke  poured  from  her 
funnel  and  the  blow  of  the  escaping  steam, 
each  time  the  valves  shifted  their  position, 
was  like  the  beating  of  a  strong  heart.  It 
was  a  heart,  the  heart  of  the  great  locomo- 
tive which  pushed  with  herculean  strength, 
as  the  giant  machine  unloosed  itself  and 
let  go  its  pounding  drivers  and  pulsating 
piston. 


204     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

On  sped  the  long  luxuriant  train  like  a 
whirlwind,  a  mighty  force  that  nothing 
could  withstand.  The  white  fury  of  the 
steain  had  been  caught  by  impotent  little 
man  and  taught  to  slave  for  him,  to  drive 
this  hissing,  roaring  dragon  of  commerce 
far  across  the  great  plains. 

Across  the  plains  as  the  whirlwind  goes  ; 
with  a  force  that  would  never  tire;  that 
knew  no  hardship ;  by  an  engine  whose 
parts  never  ached  or  broke.  Such  was  the 
mighty  steed  of  steel  that  roared  over 
culverts  and  into  deep  cuts;  that  caused 
strong  trestles  to  shake  with  its  passing  and 
the  solid  earth  to  tremble  where  it  trod. 

Through  waving  corn-fields  and  billowing 
acres  of  wheat  it  rushed ;  for  these  were 
the  days  in  Illinois  when  wheat  had  not 
been  entirely  supplanted  by  corn  ;  by  strag- 
gling villages  which  were  too  insignificant 
for  it  to  deign  to  stop ;  over  rivers  where  it 
crept  upon  a  bridge  of  seeming  spider-web, 


The  Right  of  Way 205 

where  it  would  surely  go  crashing  into  the 
watery  depths  beneath.  Yet  it  always 
escaped,  and  hissing,  roaring  and  pounding, 
sped  on. 

Across  the  broad  unobstructed  plains  its 
shrieking  whistle  could  be  heard  for  ten 
miles  and  the  vast  pillar  of  steam  and 
smoke  that  it  builded  against  the  blue 
intense  sky  could  be  seen  for  twice  that  dis- 
tance. Sometimes  it  would  be  nearly  half 
an  hour  after  that  first  faint  streak  of  blue 
mist  was  seen  on  the  utmost  horizon,  before 
the  monster  finally  went  shrieking  and 
thundering  past.  Farmers  were  often  heard 
to  boast  that  in  a  clear  day,  after  first  seeing 
the  smoke  signal,  they  could  put  up  their 
team,  change  their  clothes  and  then  drive  to 
the  depot  if  it  was  not  more  than  a  mile, 
and  still  catch  the  train. 

It  was  a  land  of  thrift  and  plenty  through 
which  the  long  train  sped.  Farms  of  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  acres,  the  richest 


206     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

land  in  the  world,  stretched  away  upon 
every  side.  The  landscape  was  dotted  with 
farm  buildings.  Cattle  and  horses  threw 
up  their  heads  and  gazed  after  the  flying 
monster.  Groups  of  small  boys  gathered 
upon  the  platforms  in  towns  to  watch  the 
Flyer  go  through.  But  they  stopped  not 
for  town  or  small  city.  Only  the  largest 
cities  were  of  enough  importance  to  be 
noticed.  The  precious  moments  which  the 
car-wheels  were  clicking  off  at  the  end  of 
each  rail  were  altogether  too  precious  to  be 
wasted  at  unimportant  places. 

These  same  small  boys  could  have  told 
you  that  the  rails  began  to  click  while  the 
train  was  still  half  a  mile  away,  and  that 
the  track  was  warm  for  a  minute  or  two 
after  it  passed,  for  it  was  an  engine  of 
energy,  the  most  powerful  force  that  man 
had  yet  mastered,  furious  at  being  chained, 
mad  with  pent-up  desire,  trying  to  burst 
the  strong  boilers,  trying  to  blow  out  the 


The  Right  of  Way 207 

cylinder  heads,  trying  to  tear  to  pieces  all 
the  many  cranks  and  levers  that  controlled 
it,  yet  spending  its  fury  against  them  in 
vain,  and  in  furtherance  of  the  wishes  of 
man,  that  impotent  creature  who  sat  in  the 
cab,  one  hand  upon  the  whistle-cord,  and 
the  other  upon  the  throttle,  making  this 
fury,  this  fiend,  this  steam,  do  his  bidding. 
Hour  after  hour  slipped  by,  and  still 
there  was  no  pausing,  no  rest  for  the 
pounding  monster.  The  sun  touched  the 
zenith  and  slowly  slid  down  the  western 
slope  of  the  blue  sky.  When  it  was  half 
way  down  to  the  horizon  the  great  river 
was  passed  and  they  thundered  into  another 
metropolis,  less  important  than  that  from 
which  they  had  started.  Here  there  was  a 
stop  for  a  few  minutes,  while  the  great  hiss- 
ing, blowing  steed  was  watered,  for  even  a 
steed  like  that  gets  thirsty  upon  such  a 
long,  hard  run  across  such  dry  plains.  The 
smoking-boxes  were  oiled,  more  coal  went 


208     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

into  the  tender,  and  more  into  the  fire-box ; 
more  water  into  the  boilers  and  a  new  engi- 
neer into  the  cab.  Again  the  wheels  began 
to  turn  slowly  as  they  crept  out  through 
the  congested  city  into  the  plains,  where 
there  was  room  for  even  such  a  great 
monster  as  this  to  move. 

Now  the  furious  red  eye  of  the  monster 
pierced  the  gloom  ahead,  for  it  was  getting 
dark.  For  hundreds  of  feet  this  bright 
shaft  lit  the  glittering  rails.  Like  a  great 
gleaming  auger  it  bored  its  way  just  so  far 
ahead  of  the  thundering  drive-wheels  into 
the  darkness. 

No  matter  how  hard  the  locomotive 
raced,  yet  this  bright  shaft  always  kept 
just  so  far  ahead.  It  showed  trestle  work 
and  deep  cut,  river  and  creek,  straggling 
village  and  dreary  waste, — all  the  endless 
panorama  of  the  plains,  a  moment  seen  and 
then  swallowed  up  in  the  darkness. 

The  man  at  the  throttle  sat  with  tense 


The  Right  of  Way 209 

nerves  and  ready  hand  peering  along  this 
bright  shaft  of  light.  If  there  was  need  of 
vigilance  by  daylight,  there  was  much 
more  need  now.  Then  the  distances  were 
vast,  now  it  was  only  a  few  hundred  feet  in 
their  immediate  front. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  train  stopped  again  at 
a  small  town  to  water  the  thirsty,  panting 
engine.  But  the  towns  were  getting  smaller 
and  the  farm  buildings  more  scattering. 

The  engineer  was  busy  oiling  the  engine 
and  did  not  see  the  boy  of  about  fifteen 
years  until  he  clambered  into  the  cab  and 
spoke  to  him. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Bennett?  "  shouted 
the  boy  in  order  to  make  himself  heard 
above  the  hissing  of  the  locomotive. 

The  engineer  looked  up  quickly,  return- 
ing the  lad's  salutation  and  sticking  out  his 
grimy  hand  for  the  boy's  own. 

11  Well,  I  declare.  How  do  you  do, 
Bennie?"  he  said.  "I  am  glad  enough  to 


no     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

see  you.  When  I  wrote  your  father  that  if 
you  would  meet  me  here  I  would  take  you 
in  the  cab  nearly  across  the  state  of  Kansas, 
I  was  not  at  all  sure  that  you  would  come, 
but  I  am  glad  enough  to  see  you.  How  are 
your  folks  ?  Like  the  West,  and  roughing 
it,  do  they  ?  " 

So  the  engineer  visited  as  he  finished 
making  the  locomotive  ready  for  another 
lap  of  the  long  run,  while  our  friend, 
Bennie  Anderson,  for  it  was  none  other, 
watched  him  with  wide-open  eyes. 

It  was  a  great  stroke  of  good  luck  by 
which  he  was  to  get  this  long  ride  in  the  cab 
with  the  engineer  upon  this  eventful  trip. 

The  engineer  and  his  father  had  been 
great  friends  way  back  in  Indiana,  and  the 
engineer  had  remembered  that  the  Ander- 
sons had  settled  in  Kansas  about  a  hundred 
miles  from  the  Union  Pacific  tracks,  so  he 
had  sent  the  invitation  to  Bennie  to  make 
a  trip  with  him  in  the  cab. 


The  Right  of  Way 2n 

Again  the  engineer  opened  the  throttle  a 
little,  and  the  wheels  began  to  move  slowly. 
Faster  and  faster  they  turned,  bumping 
over  the  switches,  taking  them  out  into  the 
darkness  on  the  long  eventful  run,  but  now 
two  pairs  of  eyes  followed  the  long  red 
shaft  of  light  that  streamed  ahead  along 
the  gleaming  rails. 

In  the  meantime  our  old  friend  Buck, 
the  King  of  all  the  Bison  in  the  northern 
herd,  was  assembling  his  mighty  host  upon 
one  of  the  north  branches  of  the  Platte.  It 
was  an  army  that  Hannibal  or  Napoleon 
might  well  have  been  proud  of.  No  mere 
man  ever  commanded  such  a  host.  This 
riderless  cavalry  of  the  plains  was  count- 
less. Perhaps  there  were  a  million  head  in 
Buck's  immediate  herd  and  perhaps  there 
were  three  million.  Who  shall  say  just 
how  many  ? 

There  were  seasoned  stub-horned  old 
bulls,  who  had  seen  twenty-five  summers 


212     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

come  and  go,  and  there  were  frisky  young 
bullocks  just  learning  to  fight.  There  were 
old  cows  and  young  heifers,  calves  and 
yearlings,  all  sleek  with  the  good  feeding 
in  this  land  of  plenty. 

As  a  general  thing,  they  were  peaceable 
enough  among  themselves,  and  until  the 
robe-hunters  came,  they  really  had  every- 
thing their  own  way  on  the  plains.  True, 
the  gray  pack  always  scouted  upon  their 
flanks  to  pick  up  sick  stragglers,  or  those 
that  had  been  wounded,  but  this  merely 
served  to  make  the  herd  more  hardy,  for  it 
weeded  out  the  weak.  It  was  the  law  of 
the  survival  of  the  fittest. 

The  Indians  slaughtered  a  few  thousand 
or  perhaps  tens  of  thousands  of  head  each 
year,  but  that  was  not  a  drop  in  the  waters 
of  the  Missouri  compared  with  their  great 
number. 

Starvation  and  cold  rarely  thinned  their 
numbers,  for  they  were  very  hardy.  Their 


The  Right  of  Way 213 

robes  were  thick  so  they  could  stand  the 
most  inclement  weather,  and  they  could 
paw  away  the  snow  and  subsist  upon  frozen 
grass  where  domestic  cattle  would  have 
starved. 

At  about  the  same  hour,  when  the  proud 
Flyer  upon  the  great  railroad  crossed  the 
river  and  came  into  Kansas,  Buck  came  out 
upon  a  high  butte  where  a  great  number  of 
his  army  could  see  him. 

Upon  his  back  rode  Shep,  erect,  proud 
and  filled  with  excitement.  Perhaps  now 
Buck  would  go  home  with  him  to  their 
master,  for  this  was  always  the  first  thought 
of  the  faithful  dog. 

From  the  crest  upon  which  they  stood 
Shep  could  see  buffalo  in  every  direction, — 
to  the  north,  to  the  east,  and  to  the  west. 
To  the  south  there  were  but  a  few  stragglers, 
for  that  was  the  direction  in  which  they 
were  to  travel,  once  the  King  gave  the  word 
to  start. 


214     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Now  by  that  I  do  not  mean  that  he 
would  give  any  vocal  command  or  any 
orders  that  you  or  I  could  have  heard  or 
understood.  But  there  is  an  understanding 
among  great  flocks  of  fowls  and  herds  of 
the  wild  beasts  that  you  and  I  do  not 
understand.  It  is  not  speech  or  command 
given  by  any  sound.  If  I  were  to  tell  you 
that  Buck  had  lieutenants  among  all  the 
minor  herds  that  composed  the  great  herd, 
it  would  hardly  be  true  in  the  usual  sense 
of  the  word ;  yet  in  another  sense  it  was 
true.  There  were  leaders  in  all  the  smaller 
herds  and  these  were  dominated  by  Buck. 
He  gave  them  no  commands,  yet  they 
knew  what  he  wanted  them  to  do.  He 
stood  upon  the  top  of  his  butte,  and  his  will 
went  forth  in  vast  waves  of  authority.  The 
actions  and  the  movements  of  each  small 
herd  was  communicated  to  that  next  to  it 
and  thus  the  impulse  ran  like  a  tidal  wave 
through  the  entire  herd. 


The  Right  of  Way 215 

From  where  Buck  stood,  upon  his  throne 
at  the  top  of  the  butte,  to  the  utmost  strag- 
gling end  of  his  herd,  it  was  forty  miles. 
For  forty  miles  up  and  down  the  creek  his 
mighty  army  rested.  For  six  or  eight 
miles  to  each  side  it  spread  out  upon  the 
plains.  Yet  any  movement  in  the  front 
would  have  been  known  at  the  rear  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time.  How  the  intelli- 
gence could  have  traveled  so  far  and  fast 
would  have  been  a  mystery. 

For  perhaps  ten  minutes  Buck  stood 
upon  the  crest  of  his  hillock  looking  off 
across  his  kingdom  at  his  subjects ;  then  he 
slowly  turned  his  nose  southward  and 
started  at  a  leisurely  trot  toward  the  land 
of  sunshine  and  better  feed. 

On  every  side  his  subjects  followed  his 
lead.  All  headed  southward  and  all 
trotted  after  their  King, — old  bulls  and 
cows,  heifers,  calves  and  yearlings,  a  mighty 
concourse,  impelled  by  some  instinct  as  old 


216     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

as  their  kind,  that  taught  them  self-preser- 
vation and  led  them  blindly  yet  surely  to 
the  best  feed  and  water. 

For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they  trotted 
slowly,  but  the  pace  was  not  swift  enough 
for  Shep,  who  was  greatly  excited  by  the 
host  of  dark-moving  heads  that  he  beheld 
on  every  side ;  so  he  began  barking  in  his 
sharp  imperative  way,  just  as  he  had  done 
in  the  old  days  when  he  rode  the  bison  to 
the  creek  for  water. 

In  obedience  to  his  four-footed  driver, 
Buck  broke  into  a  clumsy  gallop.  The 
mighty  host  on  every  side  followed  his  ex- 
ample, and  Shep  gazing  about,  wide-eyed 
and  excited,  could  see  all  around,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  innumerable 
black  shaggy  heads  all  bobbing  up  and 
down. 

What  fun  it  was  !  Louder  and  more  im- 
periously he  barked  at  Buck,  who  increased 
his  pace  to  a  pounding  gallop,  clumsy  but 


The  Right  of  Way 217 

surprisingly  fast,  considering  his  size  and 
weight. 

Then  all  the  tens  of  thousands  of  black 
heads  began  bobbing  rapidly  in  unison 
with  his,  and  the  sound  of  their  hoofs  was 
like  the  heaviest  thunder.  It  made  the 
solid  earth  to  tremble  and  quiver.  It 
raised  a  cloud  of  dust  that  finally  hung 
like  a  dark  pall  over  the  Thundering 
Herd. 

As  the  herd  increased  its  pace  and  the 
excitement  of  the  headlong  gallop  gripped 
them,  they  became  wild  with  this  one  idea 
of  flight, — to  gallop,  and  gallop  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth.  Over  or  through  anything 
that  was  in  their  way.  Unmindful  of  prec- 
ipice or  quagmire,  of  men's  bullets  or  any 
obstruction  that  he  might  put  in  their  way. 
Insensate,  impervious  to  everything.  A 
battery  of  heavy  artillery  would  hardly 
have  caused  them  to  turn. 

Thus   while    Buck    and    Shep   led    the 


218     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Thundering  Herd  toward  the  track  of  the 
Union  Pacific,  Bennie  and  his  friend  the 
conductor  ran  the  new  locomotive  drawing 
the  Flyer  on  its  record-breaking  trip  from 
Chicago  to  the  coast. 

For  more  than  two  hours  they  had  been 
running  close  to  the  river  where  there  was 
an  easy  grade  and  no  cuts  or  fills,  when 
presently  the  train  shot  around  a  sharp 
curve  preparatory  to  crossing  five  miles  of 
open  prairie,  the  track  leaving  the  river  in 
order  to  save  distance. 

The  moon,  which  had  been  obscured  for 
the  first  part  of  the  evening,  was  now  shin- 
ing brightly  and  it  was  almost  as  light  as 
day.  As  they  came  out  into  the  open 
prairie,  Bennie  noticed  that  the  landscape 
seemed  dotted  with  dark  figures  which  con- 
stantly bobbed  about  as  though  in  motion. 
At  first  he  thought  he  was  dreaming,  so  he 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  again,  but  they 
were  still  there.  Not  only  were  they 


The  Right  of  Way  219 

bobbing  about  in  the  distance,  but  they  were 
momentarily  coming  nearer. 

Almost  before  he  had  time  to  realize  what 
it  was  that  agitated  the  landscape,  the  dark 
shapes  were  all  about  them.  The  figures, 
which  a  moment  before  had  looked  small 
and  insignificant,  now  loomed  large ;  and  in 
a  flash  the  truth  dawned  upon  him.  It  was 
the  Thundering  Herd  in  mad  flight  across 
the  tracks  directly  in  front  of  them. 

"Stop  her,  Mr.  Bennett,  stop  her,"  he 
yelled,  reaching  in  his  excitement  for  the 
throttle.  "  It  is  the  Thundering  Herd ; 
there  are  millions  of  them.  We  can  never 
get  through  them.'1 

Mr.  Bennett,  who  was  usually  a  cautious 
driver,  had  seen  buffalo  upon  the  track  be- 
fore, but  they  had  been  merely  small  bands 
that  had  always  fled  at  the  approach  of  the 
train. 

So  in  answer  to  Bennie's  outcry,  he  threw 
the  throttle  wide  open  and  shouted  back  to 


220     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

the  frightened  boy,  "  Now  watch  and  see 
what  the  old  girl  will  do  to  them.  I  have 
had  buffalo  upon  the  track  before." 

The  great  engine  panted  and  throbbed  as 
its  piston  felt  the  redoubled  blast  of  steam 
and  rushed  forward  on  its  death-dealing 
work. 

There  was  a  dull  thud  upon  the  cow- 
catcher and  a  little  yellow  bison  calf  was 
thrown  fifty  feet  into  the  air,  to  fall  a  quiv- 
ering mass  of  crushed  flesh  and  broken 
bones  by  the  track.  Thud,  thud,  on  the 
cow-catcher  again,  and  a  heifer  rolled  one 
way  and  a  bull  the  other,  both  mangled 
and  torn  and  dead  as  stones.  Then  the 
engine  struck  a  bunch  which  had  jammed 
upon  the  track  ahead  of  them,  thinking  to 
escape  by  running  along  the  track.  There 
was  grinding  of  bones  and  sinew,  and  blood 
was  everywhere,  but  since  such  a  soft  mass  as 
this  could  not  be  cut  or  run  over,  or  pushed 
aside,  it  ground  under  the  wheels  and  piled 


The  Right  of  Way 221 

up  ahead.  It  was  a  substance  that  could 
not  be  bent  or  broken  or  diverted,  so 
it  did  its  fatal  work.  The  mighty  engine, 
weighing  more  than  twoscore  tons,  slid 
from  the  rails  and  there  was  such  a  bump- 
ing, and  pounding  and  ripping  of  ties  and 
crashing  of  glass  as  even  the  old  engineer, 
who  had  been  in  more  than  one  wreck  be- 
fore, had  never  seen.  For  four  hundred 
feet,  the  long  train  pounded  over  the  road- 
bed, the  locomotive  and  two  of  the  forward 
cars  going  upon  the  ties,  and  then  it  came 
to  a  dead  stop, — halted  upon  the  prairie 
hundreds  of  miles  from  any  wrecking  train 
or  other  relief,  ignominiously  halted  by  the 
Thundering  Herd. 

Bennie  and  Mr.  Bennett  picked  them- 
selves up  from  the  cab-floor  and  saw  that  no 
bones  were  broken.  Although  they  had 
been  terribly  shaken  up,  yet  they  had 
miraculously  escaped  without  any  serious 
injury.  Their  first  common  impulse  was  to 


222     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

look  out  of  the  shattered  cab-window  along 
the  track  ahead.  It  was  black  with  bison 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  all  galloping 
madly  across  the  tracks  in  their  precipitate 
flight  southward. 

"  My  God,  what  a  sight !  "  gasped  the  as- 
tonished engineer.  "  I  should  think  that 
all  the  buffalo  upon  these  plains  had  been 
bunched  right  here  upon  the  track  within 
half  a  mile  of  us." 

"  No,"  replied  Bennie.  "  It  is  not  that  at 
all.  There  are  millions  of  them.  It  is  the 
Thundering  Herd.  I  have  seen  it  before. 
This  herd  may  stretch  for  miles  to  the 
north. 

"  Look,  Mr.  Bennett,  look,"  the  boy  fairly 
shrieked,  gripping  his  friend's  arm  and 
pointing  with  his  outstretched  hand  di- 
rectly ahead  of  them. 

The  engineer  turned  his  head  just  in  time 
to  see  a  mighty  bison,  larger  and  taller  than 
his  fellows,  loom  up  darkly  against  the 


A  MIGHTY  Bisox  LOOMED  UP  DARKLY  AGAINST  THE  Moox 


The  Right  of  Way 223 

moon  which  was  just  setting  in  the  western 
sky.  Like  a  black  mountain  the  huge  bull 
flashed  across  the  bright  spot  in  the  heavens 
as  he  cleared  the  track  at  a  jump  and  was 
gone  among  the  crowding,  jostling  mass. 
But  in  that  instant  both  Bennie  and  the  engi- 
neer clearly  saw  silhouetted  against  the  sky 
the  dark  outline  of  a  dog  sitting  erect  upon 
the  buffalo's  back. 

"  Great  jumping  horn-spoon  1 "  gasped  the 
astonished  engineer.  "  What  was  that  ? 
Did  you  see  that  dog,  or  wolf,  or  something 
upon  that  buffalo's  back?" 

But  Bennie  uttered  not  a  word.  A  great 
lump  filled  his  throat.  Tears  were  rolling 
down  his  cheeks, — tears  of  both  pride  and 
pain. 

"  That's  old  Buck  and  Shep,"  he  sobbed 
as  soon  as  he  could  make  himself  heard. 
"  They  are  both  mine,  but  I  won't  ever  see 
them  again. 

"  My,  but  wa'n't  they  grand  !    How  proud 


224     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Shep  did  look,  and  wasn't  Buck  as  big  as  a 
mountain  ! " 

At  first  Mr.  Bennett  thought  the  boy  had 
gone  daft  but  Bennie  finally  told  him  the 
story  of  Buck  and  Shep,  and  how  he  had 
last  seen  them  several  months  before,  Buck 
galloping  away  to  the  creek,  going  for  a 
drink,  as  he  thought,  and  faithful  Shep  go- 
ing to  bring  him  back.  To  all  of  which  the 
old  engineer  could  only  ejaculate,  "  Well, 
I'll  be  blowed  !  I'll  be  blowed  !  " 

For  nine  hours  the  splendid  express  train 
stood  impotent  upon  the  tracks  while  the 
countless  host  from  the  vast  plains  thundered 

by. 

The  doors  at  the  end  of  the  cars  were 
locked  and  barricaded  and  men,  their 
revolvers  drawn,  stood  in  readiness  to  repel 
any  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  bison  to  in- 
vade the  train.  Occasionally  a  venturesome 
bull  or  a  frenzied  heifer  would  clamber 
wildly  over  the  platforms  between  the  cars, 


The  Right  of  Way 225 

but  after  a  little  the  herd  split  at  the  train 
and  ran  around  each  end.  Once  they  got 
started  this  way,  all  went  after  the  leaders. 

One  incident  there  was,  which  was  quite 
out  of  the  ordinary  and  threw  the  passen- 
gers in  one  of  the  coaches  into  a  frenzy  for 
a  few  moments.  This  was  when  a  buffalo 
bull  lost  his  head  and  ran  crashing  into  one 
of  the  plate-glass  windows.  He  could  only 
get  his  head  and  shoulders  through,  and 
after  one  or  two  futile  attempts  to  jump  into 
the  car,  backed  out  and  went  around  like 
his  fellows,  but  he  made  a  striking  and  terri- 
fying picture,  his  massive  head  with  its  long 
black  beard  framed  in  the  shattered  window. 

It  was  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  when  the 
train  had  run  into  the  midst  of  the  Thun- 
dering Herd,  and  day  was  breaking  in  the 
east  when  the  last  of  the  stragglers  went  by. 
Truly  it  was  a  strange  and  bewildering 
procession, — one  that  those  who  saw  it  never 
forgot. 


226     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

One  evening  about  a  week  after  the  Flyer 
and  the  Thundering  Herd  had  disputed  the 
right  of  way  upon  the  Kansas  plains,  a  small 
band  of  Pawnee  Indians,  a  hundred  miles 
to  the  south,  were  sitting  about  their  camp- 
fires.  They  had  participated  in  a  glorious 
buffalo  hunt  that  day,  and  each  brave  was 
telling  in  turn  his  experiences,  and  boasting 
of  his  deeds. 

Eagle  Feather  was  speaking.  "I  see 
mighty  bull  buffalo/'  he  said.  "  Big  as  two, 
and  on  his  back  a  wolf  sit,  like  he  grow 
there." 

The  Cuiyote  blew  a  wreath  of  smoke 
contemptuously  at  Eagle  Feather  and  hissed, 
"  Big  lie." 

"No  lie,"  retorted  Eagle  Feather.  "I 
shoot  at  wolf  upon  buffalo's  back,  and  arrow 
stick  in  his  back." 

Tall  Sycamore,  the  old  chief,  took  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth  and  looked  scornfully  at 
the  speaker.  "Fool,"  he  hissed.  "That 


The  Right  of  Way 227 

bison  bad  medicine.  That  wolf  bad  medi- 
cine. They  bring  trouble  to  the  lodge  of 
Eagle  Feather.  His  squaw  no  more  bear 
him  pappoose.  His  son  die  by  his  father's 
camp-fire.  No  more  the  bison  bring  meat  to 
his  lodge.  All  night  the  wolf  howl  by  his 
wigwam.  Eagle  Feather  fool." 

Bennie  returned  home  after  his  eventful 
trip  in  the  cab  with  Mr.  Bennett,  and  told 
the  strange  tale  of  the  wreck,  and  also  Shep's 
and  Buck's  part  in  the  night's  proceedings. 
Although  he  repeated  the  story  over  and 
over,  Mr.  Anderson  could  hardly  credit  it, 
and  thought  he  had  been  mistaken.  "  I  do 
not  believe  we  will  ever  see  either  Buck  or 
Shep  again,"  he  said. 

The  following  evening  they  were  sitting 
about  a  cheerful  fire  in  the  stone  fireplace 
in  the  kitchen,  and  Bennie  was  again  telling 
the  story.  It  was  a  favorite  theme  and 
they  could  not  let  it  rest. 

He  had  just  finished  and  was  declaring 


228     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

stoutly  as  usual  that  he  had  seen  Buck  and 
Shep,  when  there  came  a  soft  whine  at  the 
door.  Bennie  sprang  up  and  threw  it  wide 
open,  when,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  all, 
poor  Shep  fell  across  the  door-sill  into  the 
room  and  lay  panting  upon  the  floor. 

Bennie  picked  him  up  in  his  arms  and 
laid  him  down  gently  by  the  fire.  Food 
and  water  were  brought  and  when  he  had 
eaten  and  drunk,  the  exhausted  dog  seemed 
better,  but  he  was  nearly  dead  with  hunger 
and  pain. 

One  hind-leg  hung  limp  and  he  whim- 
pered as  soon  as  Mr.  Anderson  put  his  hand 
upon  it.  Bennie  poked  the  hair  upon  the 
rump  away  carefully  and  found  a  bad 
wound,  inflamed  and  filthy,  with  a  cruel 
Indian  arrow  head  sticking  in  the  fleshy 
portion. 

So  Eagle  Feather  had  told  the  truth  after 
all.  He  had  really  shot  at  the  wolf,  and 
badly  wounded  him.  It  was  weeks  before 


The  Right  of  Way 229 

Shep  could  again  use  his  leg  as  before,  but 
he  recovered  rapidly,  and  the  petting  and 
attention-  that  he  received  from  the  family 
and  all  who  heard  of  his  adventure  was 
enough  to  spoil  him. 

Shep  himself,  however,  did  not  seem  to  be 
quite  easy  in  his  mind.  In  his  dumb  dog 
way  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  tell  Bennie 
something.  But  his  young  master  told  him 
as  best  he  could  that  it  was  all  right  and 
that  he  knew  Shep  would  have  brought 
Buck  back  if  any  dog  in  the  world  could. 


CHAPTER  VII 
BOOTS  AND  SADDLES 


CHAPTER  VII 

BOOTS  AND  SADDLES 

EIGHT  years  have  now  passed  since  that 
eventful  night  when  old  Buck  and  the 
Thundering  Herd  had  held  up  the  Flyer 
upon  the  great  trans-continental  railroad 
for  nine  hours,  while  its  own  stupendous 
battalions  passed.  During  that  time  pitiful 
changes  had  come  to  the  Thundering  Herd, 
which  was  now  no  longer  large  enough  to 
thunder. 

The  coming  of  another  railroad  farther 
north  than  the  first  to  span  the  continent, 
and  the  many  boats  plying  far  up  the  Mis- 
souri, had  opened  up  the  fine  grazing-grounds 
of  the  northern  herd  to  the  robe-hunters. 
Thousands  of  men  went  forth  every  year, 
each  with  a  half-dozen  packhorses,  and 
several  skinners  to  butcher  buffalo.  All 


234     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

along  the  steamboat  wharves,  and  upon  the 
platforms  at  the  different  depots  the  skins 
were  piled  up  like  cord-wood,  just  as  they 
had  been  a  few  years  before  in  Arkansas 
and  Indian  Territory. 

From  point  to  point  the  hunted  bison 
fled,  his  grazing-grounds  gradually  narrow- 
ing down,  and  his  numbers  decreasing  by 
millions  each  year.  Finally  he  was  driven 
entirely  out  of  Kansas  and  Nebraska  and 
partially  out  of  what  is  now  South  Dakota, 
taking  refuge  in  North  Dakota  and  Mon- 
tana. But  even  here  he  was  pursued. 
There  was  to  be  no  rest  for  him  as  long  as 
he  wore  that  thick  warm  robe,  which  could 
be  made  to  serve  man  in  so  many  ways. 

The  Indian  had  killed  him  merely  for 
food  and  utensils,  but  the  white  man  slaugh- 
tered him  wastefully  for  the  hide.  Often 
he  killed  more  than  he  could  skin,  and  the 
robe  rotted  on  its  wearer. 

Still  from  point  to  point  they  were  pur- 


Boots  and  Saddles  235 

sued  until  there  only  remained  a  few  scat- 
tered small  herds  of  a  few  hundred  head 
each  in  Montana.  Then  something  befell 
that  sounded  the  death- knell  of  what 
few  head  there  were  left  in  the  United 
States. 

It  was  all  because  the  Great  White  Father 
at  Washington  was  angry  at  the  red  man, 
whom  the  whites  had  hunted  from  reserva- 
tion to  reservation  almost  as  persistently  as 
they  had  the  buffalo.  The  White  Father's 
soldiers  had  been  killed  in  a  battle  called 
the  Little  Big-horn,  and  he  could  not  wreak 
his  vengeance  upon  the  Indian,  because  he 
ran  so  fast,  and  would  not  stay  still  to  be 
thrashed,  so  the  White  Father  determined 
to  punish  the  Indian  by  cutting  off  his 
supply  of  meat.  If  he  could  not  subdue 
him  in  any  other  way,  he  could  starve  him. 

It  was  in  June  of  1876  that  a  jaded 
trooper  had  risen  in  his  stirrups  at  four  in 
the  morning,  after  an  all  night's  ride  and 


236     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

sounded  the  charge  for  the  disastrous  battle 
of  the  Little  Big-horn. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  and  all  his  com- 
rades, in  General  Ouster's  immediate  com- 
mand, were  lying  dead  upon  mother  earth. 
They  had  died  like  good  soldiers,  the 
ground  about  each  man  being  sprinkled 
with  empty  cartridges,  but  Sitting  Bull  and 
his  braves  had  been  too  many  for  them. 
Now  the  bison  was  to  suffer  because  the 
Indian  had  fought  his  white  brother. 

Troop  E  from  Fort  Blank  in  Kansas  was 
on  its  way  to  Northern  Montana,  where, 
among  the  Black  Hills,  the  last  of  the 
bison  had  taken  refuge.  The  troop  had 
orders  to  find  and  destroy  all  of  the  bison 
that  were  left,  and  thus  bring  the  red  man, 
whose  buffalo  had  always  been  his  chief 
means  of  subsistence,  to  terms. 

To  one  of  the  troopers  this  was  a  mourn- 
ful errand.  Bennie  Anderson,  now  called 
Benjamin,  for  he  had  grown  to  a  stalwart 


Boots  and  Saddles  237 

man  of  six  feet,  had  joined  the  cavalry  two 
years  before,  and  he  now  rode  with  the  rest 
of  the  troop  into  the  Montana  mountains 
upon  this  bloody  and  unnecessary  quest. 

The  boy  had  inherited  rather  weak  lungs 
and  his  parents  had  advised  this  change, 
thinking  that  the  exposure  and  the  out-of- 
door  life  of  the  trooper  would  be  beneficial 
to  him.  The  change  had  worked  wonders, 
and  he  was  now  one  of  the  hardiest  of  the 
troopers. 

For  weeks  they  had  been  on  the  march, 
making  thirty  or  forty  miles  a  day.  At 
first  it  had  been  over  the  gently  undulat- 
ing prairie,  checkered  by  wooded  creeks, 
but  as  they  came  into  Montana  through  the 
little  Missouri  country,  the  land  was  wild 
and  picturesque. 

It  abounded  in  rugged  mountain  chains, 
intervaled  by  deep,  slumbrous  valleys. 
Turbulent  streams  and  broad  rushing 
rivers  swept  on  their  way ;  rivers  as  mag- 


238     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

nificent  as  the  storied  rivers  of  the  old 
world  over  which  the  tourist  raves,  yet  in 
our  own  great  country  they  were  almost 
unknown  to  the  geographer.  Game  of 
many  kinds  abounded,  and  each  day  a  half 
dozen  men  were  detailed  to  ride  ahead 
and  shoot  enough  for  the  troop.  Bear, 
both  black  and  grizzly ;  deer,  of  both 
black  tail  and  white  tail  variety  ;  and  the 
more  lordly  elk,  abounded.  Grouse  were 
flushed  on  all  sides,  so  the  menu  of  the 
troopers  was  varied  and  suited  to  the  taste 
of  an  epicure. 

Each  evening  a  camping-place  was  se- 
lected by  two  or  three  troopers  who  had 
gone  ahead  for  that  purpose,  and  twenty  or 
thirty  white  tents  were  pitched.  Then  the 
horses  were  picketed  for  the  night  and  soon 
the  odor  of  broiling  venison  or  bear-steak 
came  to  the  keen  nostrils  of  the  troopers 
who  always  carried  their  appetites  with 
them  upon  such  occasions  as  these. 


Boots  and  Saddles  239 

Presently  they  could  all  be  seen  standing 
about  eating  venison  and  hardtack  and 
drinking  steaming  coffee.  After  supper 
great  camp-fires  were  kindled  and  the 
troopers  played  cards,  told  stories  and  had 
a  generally  gay  time  until  taps  sounded. 
Then  in  a  few  minutes  the  noisy  company 
would  have  all  disappeared,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  sentry,  who  paced  steadily 
up  and  down  watching  the  stars  and  listen- 
ing to  the  night  sounds  of  this  wilder- 
ness. 

Although  it  was  only  late  October, 
yet  they  had  not  penetrated  far  into  Mon- 
tana when  a  heavy  snowfall  overtook  them. 
It  was  a  soft,  sticky  snow  about  two  feet  on 
the  level,  but  in  some  of  the  gulches  it  was 
piled  up  many  feet  deep.  The  day  after 
the  storm  it  grew  warm  again  and  all  the 
mountain  streams  in  these  steep,  shut-in 
valleys  ran  riot. 

Such    conditions    added   greatly  to  the 


240     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

work  of  the  soldiers,  and  what  had  been 
merely  pleasure  before  now  became  heart- 
breaking labor.  They  could  not  make  over 
half  the  distance  they  had  made  in  the 
good  weather.  All  day  from  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning  until  after  sunset  they 
floundered  along,  for  they  now  had  to 
make  longer  days,  if  they  were  to  accom- 
plish that  for  which  they  came. 

At  night  men  and  horses  were  completely 
worn  out.  Often  the  troopers  fell  asleep 
with  their  mess-plates  in  their  hands.  To 
add  to  the  difficulty  it  was  now  hard  to 
find  feed  for  the  horses.  Within  a  day  or 
two  the  south  slopes  were  again  bare  of 
snow,  but  the  grass  was  soggy,  frozen  stuff, 
and  the  mounts  would  not  have  eaten  it 
had  they  not  been  so  famished. 

But  good  luck  or  ill  had  ordained  that 
they  were  near  to  their  journey's  end  as  far 
as  the  march  north  was  concerned,  for  the 
fifth  day  after  the  coming  of  the  snow, 


Boots  and  Saddles  241 

when  they  had  seriously  considered  turn- 
ing back,  they  located  the  bison. 

They  had  taken  refuge  in  a  series  of 
deep,  narrow  valleys,  between  two  high 
mountain  chains,  which  rose  above  them  on 
each  side  into  the  clouds.  The  sides  of 
these  valleys,  beginning  about  half-way  up, 
were  heavily  timbered,  but  along  the  bot- 
tom and  on  the  lower  slope  there  was  good 
green  feed.  They  were  so  sheltered  from 
the  wind  and  the  cold  that  it  seemed 
twenty  degrees  warmer  than  the  outside 
country. 

They  had  located  the  fugitives  just  at 
dusk,  so  nothing  could  be  done  that  night. 

The  following  morning  reveille  sounded 
before  sunrise,  and  snatching  a  hasty  meal, 
the  bugler  sounded  boots  and  saddles  and 
they  were  off. 

A  part  of  the  troop  went  to  the  very  up- 
per end  of  the  most  northerly  intervale, 
while  a  few  were  stationed  along  the  sides 


242     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

of  the  mountains  to  prevent  the  escape  of 
the  buffalo  in  that  direction.  Then  the 
drive  began.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
roar  of  sharp  carbines  and  the  crack  of 
army  revolvers  echoed  almost  ceaselessly 
across  the  valleys. 

Some  of  the  bison  fled  up  the  valley,  only 
to  run  into  the  bunch  of  troopers  stationed 
at  its  head  ;  others  fled  up  the  steep  slopes, 
but  were  easily  shot  as  they  clambered  la- 
boriously upward.  There  were  a  medley  of 
sounds  that  echoed  that  day  in  these  deep, 
peaceful  valleys,  where  the  voice  of  a  white 
man  had  scarce  ever  been  heard  before. 
Mingled  with  the  roar  of  the  carbine  and 
the  crack  of  the  revolver,  was  the  sound 
of  galloping  horses  and  terrified  buffalo. 

There  were  the  angry  bellows  of  old  bulls 
brought  to  bay  at  some  precipitate  cliff  and 
caused  to  turn  and  fight ;  the  high-keyed 
mournful  lowing  of  anxious  cows  who 
feared  for  their  calves ;  and  the  pitiful 


Boots  and  Saddles  243 

bleating  of  their  offspring  as  they  saw  their 
mothers  pitch  headlong  and  fall  kicking 
in  the  new  snow.  Blood  was  everywhere ; 
even  little  rivulets,  that  trickled  down  the 
sides  of  the  mountains,  ran  red. 

Nor  was  this  battle,  the  last  fight  of  the 
great  herd,  now  barely  five  hundred,  en- 
tirely one-sided.  Occasionally  an  old  bull  or 
a  desperate  cow  mortally  wounded  charged 
home ;  then  the  troopers  had  to  get  out  of 
the  way  or  some  one  got  hurt. 

As  a  result  of  these  death  charges,  one 
trooper  was  lying  in  camp  with  a  broken 
leg  and  two  fractured  ribs,  while  two 
horses  lay  dead  among  buffalo.  Four 
others  had  been  so  badly  injured  that  they 
were  useless,  and  were  now  tethered  in 
camp. 

Colonel  Roosevelt,  as  well  as  several 
other  hunters  of  big  game,  is  of  the  opinion 
that  a  wounded  buffalo  is  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  animals  to  face  that  there  is. 


244     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

By  the  time  that  the  setting  sun  painted 
the  mountain  tops  as  red  as  the  United 
States  soldiers  had  made  the  snow  in  the 
valley,  their  work  of  destruction  was  nearly 
finished.  They  had  raked  the  canyons 
from  end  to  end.  A  few  buffalo  had  es- 
caped, some  charging  through  their  ranks 
in  spite  of  bullets,  while  others  escaped  up 
the  steep  side  of  the  mountains  where 
the  soldiers  had  thought  they  could  not 
climb. 

These  long-hunted  buffalo  had  become 
almost  as  expert  mountain-climbers  as  the 
bighorn  sheep,  although  they  were  natu- 
rally plains  animals. 

Major  K.,  the  commander  of  the  troop, 
sat  upon  his  horse  on  a  little  rising  ground 
near  the  center  of  the  upper  valley.  He 
was  examining  the  sides  of  the  surrounding 
mountains  with  his  glass  in  search  of  any 
of  the  fugitives  that  they  might  have  over- 
looked. 


Boots  and  Saddles  245 

Presently  he  espied  an  old  bull,  a  mon- 
arch of  his  kind,  about  a  third  of  the  way 
up  the  mountainside.  He  was  standing  in 
plain  view  looking  down  upon  them.  The 
major  called  Benjamin  Anderson,  the 
trooper  who  happened  to  be  nearest  to 
him,  and  pointed  out  the  buffalo. 

"  You  go  up  and  finish  him,"  he  said. 
"I  guess  he  is  the  father  of  the  whole 
bunch." 

Ben,  as  the  troopers  called  him,  was  a 
good  soldier  although  his  heart  was  not  in 
this  bloody  work.  So  he  went  to  execute 
his  officer's  command. 

The  young  trooper  rode  his  jaded  horse 
slowly  up  the  slippery  side  of  the  moun- 
tain as  far  as  he  could,  and  then  throwing 
the  bridle-rein  over  his  neck,  proceeded  on 
foot  the  rest  of  the  way. 

He  had  to  go  carefully  as  the  snow  was 
beginning  to  freeze,  and  it  crunched  with 
considerable  noise  under  his  feet.  It  was 


246     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

also  hard  to  keep  from  sending  it  slipping 
down  the  steep  banks. 

At  first  he  could  not  locate  the  old  bull, 
having  lost  sight  of  him  in  the  ascent.  He 
was  rather  in  hopes  that  the  bison  had 
made  good  his  escape,  when  he  spied  him 
standing  just  as  they  had  seen  him  a  few 
minutes  before. 

Cautiously  he  crept  forward.  He  had 
left  his  carbine  strapped  to  the  saddle  and 
had  only  the  army  revolver  with  him. 
This,  however,  was  quite  a  deadly  weapon, 
although  it  was  necessary  to  get  very  close 
to  kill  an  animal  as  tough  as  a  bison.  When 
hunting  the  buffalo  on  the  plains,  the  rider 
usually  comes  up  close  to  the  bison's  side 
before  trying  to  shoot  him  with  a  revolver. 

Benjamin  continued  to  creep  carefully 
forward,  going  behind  trees  as  much  as  he 
could  until  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  old 
monarch,  and  then  raised  the  revolver  to 
shoot. 


Boots  and  Saddles  247 

The  officer,  a  hundred  yards  below  in  the 
valley,  was  watching  him  and  saw  him  lift 
the  revolver,  and  then  lower  it  as  though 
uncertain. 

Again  he  lifted  the  weapon  and  again  it 
fell  to  his  side.  The  officer  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation of  astonishment  and  disgust,  but 
his  bewilderment  was  still  greater  when  he 
saw  the  young  man  start  slowly  toward  the 
old  bull,  holding  out  his  hands  as  he  went. 

He  would  go  ten  or  twenty  feet  and  then 
stop  and  hold  out  his  hand  again.  The 
officer  thought  he  heard  him  giving  a  low 
cattle-call  but  was  not  sure.  The  young 
man  had  certainly  gone  daft.  In  another 
minute  he  would  be  trampled  and  hooked 
to  death  and  it  would  serve  him  right  for 
his  folly. 

To  the  utter  amazement  of  the  watching 
cavalryman  in  the  valley,  Bennie  continued 
to  advance  toward  the  old  bull  until  he  was 
within  ten  paces  of  him,  and  the  buffalo 


248     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

made  no  move  to  flee  from  him.  He  surely 
must  be  mortally  wounded.  That  was  the 
explanation  of  the  strange  proceeding. 

But  even  this  theory  was  upset  presently, 
as  the  trooper  was  going  forward  again  step 
by  step.  Surely  he  knew  that  a  wounded 
bison  was  more  to  be  feared  than  almost 
any  other  form  of  big  game.  Well,  he  was 
a  fool.  That  was  all  there  was  about  it. 

But  he  did  not  come  to  harm,  as  far  as 
the  officer  could  determine,  at  that  distance, 
although  he  went  up  to  within  a  yard  of 
the  fugitive  and  held  out  his  hand. 

The  next  move  in  this  strange  proceed- 
ing fairly  took  away  the  breath  of  the 
watcher  in  the  valley  below,  for  the  old  bull 
actually  took  two  steps  toward  the  young 
man,  and  holding  out  his  great  shaggy  head, 
with  its  long  black  beard,  put  his  huge 
muzzle  in  the  hand  of  the  trooper. 

For  five  minutes  they  stood  thus,  the  man 
rubbing  the  bull's  nose  and  the  bull  licking 


Boots  and  Saddles  249 

the  salt  sweat  from  his  hand,  and  nosing 
him  over. 

Then,  after  giving  his  nose  a  final  pat,  the 
trooper  turned  and  began  descending  the 
mountainside. 

Presently  he  came  riding  slowly  back  to 
his  officer,  and  the  major  thought  there  was 
a  strange  look  upon  his  face. 

As  soon  as  he  got  within  speaking  dis- 
tance the  officer's  wrath  broke  forth. 

"  Why,  in  the  name  of  the  devil,  when  I 
send  you  to  do  a  thing  don't  you  do  it? 
This  comes  mighty  near  being  insubordina- 
tion. What  kind  of  a  performance  did  you 
call  that  up  there  anyway?  Why  didn't 
you  shoot  him  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  shoot  that  particular  bull, 
major,  if  I  was  to  be  court-martialed  for 
not  doing  it,"  choked  the  young  man. 
"  Why,  sir,  you  do  not  know  what  you  are 
asking  of  me.  Major,  when  that  bull  was  a 
little  fuzzy  yellow  calf,  he  used  to  come  up 


250     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

to  me  and  I  would  put  my  arms  about  his 
neck  and  lay  my  cheek  against  his  face,  and 
rub  his  nose  and  pull  his  soft  ears,  while  he 
licked  the  salt  sweat  from  my  hand  just  as 
you  saw  him  do  a  few  minutes  ago.  He 
would  follow  me  all  over  the  farm  like  a 
dog  and  I  could  call  him  as  far  as  he  could 
hear  my  voice.  When  he  became  a  sturdy 
young  bull  I  used  to  ride  him  on  long  trips 
across  the  prairies.  Why,  I  have  ridden 
him  more  than  a  thousand  miles.  He  and 
I  have  broken  hundreds  of  acres  of  bottom- 
land together.  There  was  never  an  animal 
upon  the  farm  that  I  loved  as  I  did  him, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  my  old  dog 
Shep.  That  bison  and  Shep  were  insepa- 
rable when  the  dog  was  a  pup  and  the  bull 
was  a  calf.  We  found  him  while  we  were 
crossing  the  plains  twelve  years  ago,  and  we 
brought  him  up.  I  wouldn't  shoot  him  for 
the  world.  I  couldn't  do  it  anyway.  It 
would  be  a  crime  at  my  hands." 


Boots  and  Saddles  251 

"  Well,"  ejaculated  the  astonished  officer, 
"  of  course  that  makes  a  difference,  but  I 
didn't  count  on  your  having  any  bosom 
friends  among  the  bison." 

The  young  soldier  reached  for  the  officer's 
glass  and  focused  it  upon  the  spot  where  he 
had  left  Buck.  He  was  not  there,  but  far 
up  the  mountainside  he  could  see  him 
laboriously  climbing  to  freedom.  Out  and 
in  among  the  scrub-pines  he  wound  his  way. 
For  a  moment  the  young  man  watching 
breathlessly  would  think  he  had  lost  him 
and  then  he  would  reappear  again  higher 
up. 

But  the  shadows  of  coming  night  gather- 
ing each  minute  among  the  pine  glooms  on 
the  mountain  top  made  it  hard  to  distin- 
guish the  dark  form  of  the  old  King. 

At  last  he  was  but  a  shadow  himself, 
among  the  lighter  shadows,  a  dark  spot 
that  went  higher  and  higher  into  the  pro- 
tecting folds  of  the  mantle  of  coming  night. 


252     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Then  the  shadows  swallowed  him  and  he 
was  gone  forever  as  far  as  the  young  trooper 
was  concerned. 

Henceforth  he  would  be  but  a  shadow  out 
of  the  shadeland  of  memory,  a  phantom 
that  would  come  and  go  with  the  years 
when  Ben  recalled  the  old  days  upon  the 
farm, — those  dear  old  boyhood  days  that 
fled  away  from  the  present  as  Buck  had  fled 
away  from  the  soldiers. 

"  I  guess  we  had  better  ride  back  to  camp 
now/'  said  the  major  kindly.  "  Supper  and 
a  warm  fire  will  do  us  all  good." 

"  How  did  you  know  this  was  your  partic- 
ular buffalo?"  continued  the  major,  as  he 
turned  his  horse  and  led  the  way  back  to 
camp,  for  he  was  not  yet  quite  convinced. 

"  It  was  in  this  way/'  replied  Benjamin. 
"  You  see  the  last  fall  that  I  had  him  he 
was  restless  and  did  not  act  as  he  used  to, 
and  I  half  imagined  that  he  might  run 
away,  although  I  did  not  really  think  he 


Boots  and  Saddles  253 

would,  so  I  put  a  tin  tag  with  my  name 
upon  it  in  his  ear.  It  was  our  regular  cattle 
tag.  When  I  raised  my  revolver  to  shoot, 
I  noticed  that  the  sunlight  fell  upon  some- 
thing bright  which  glittered  and  was  very 
conspicuous  against  his  dark  head.  At  the 
same  instant  the  thought  of  the  tin  tag  that 
I  had  put  in  old  Buck's  ear  flashed  through 
my  mind.  And  not  a  minute  too  soon  for 
my  finger  had  almost  pressed  the  trigger." 

"  Well,"  ejaculated  the  officer,  "  that  does 
seem  to  settle  it  without  a  doubt." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  LAST  PISKUN 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LAST  PISKUN 

THE  piskun  was  a  trap  upon  a  large  scale 
by  means  of  which  nearly  all  the  plains 
Indians  from  Texas  to  the  Dakotas  ensnared 
the  buffalo. 

This  was  in  the  primitive  days  before 
they  got  firearms  and  could  slaughter  the 
herd  as  rapidly  as  the  white  man  did. 

Not  only  was  it  necessary  to  kill  a  lot  of 
bison  for  food,  but  this  useful  animal  served 
the  red  man  in  so  many  other  ways  that  a 
great  number  had  to  be  killed  each  year. 
At  the  present  time  it  is  said  that  no  part 
of  the  cattle  that  are  slaughtered  in  the 
great  slaughter-houses  at  Chicago  are 
wasted.  So  it  was  in  the  primitive  days ; 
nearly  every  part  of  the  buffalo  was  used, 
only  the  offal  going  to  the  scavengers. 


258     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Just  to  mention  one  item  will  serve  to 
show  how  true  this  was.  Each  year  all  the 
lodges  in  the  villages  were  made  new.  Not 
only  did  they  procure  new  lodge  poles,  but 
all  the  skins  covering  them  were  thrown 
away  and  new  ones  provided.  These  were 
tanned  bison-skins  taken  from  the  cows. 
Some  of  the  chiefs'  lodges  were  quite  spacious, 
requiring  fifteen  or  twenty  skins  to  cover 
them,  so  this  want  alone  necessitated  the 
killing  of  many  head. 

The  piskun  varied  in  different  parts  of 
the  country,  although  the  general  plan  was 
the  same.  This  consisted  in  getting  the 
buffalo  into  an  enclosure  or  corral,  where 
they  could  either  be  killed  with  bow  and 
arrow,  or  perhaps  they  were  rushed  over  a 
cliff  where  they  fell  in  a  struggling  mass. 

In  the  latter  case  a  spot  was  chosen  near 
the  buffalo's  feeding-ground  where  there 
was  a  deep  canyon  or  coulee.  From  this 
precipitate  bbank  two  diverging  wings  were 


The  Last  Piskun  259 

builded  far  out  on  the  prairies,  becoming 
farther  apart  as  they  extended  from  the 
cliff.  At  the  latter  point  they  nearly  con- 
verged so  as  to  act  as  a  chute. 

When  all  was  in  readiness  most  of  the 
members  of  the  village  stationed  themselves 
behind  these  diverging  wings,  where  they 
were  carefully  concealed,  while  a  few  of  the 
warriors  went  forth  upon  the  plains  to  tole 
the  buffalo  into  the  death-trap. 

Foremost  of  these  was  a  medicine-man  who 
had  fasted  all  night  and  prayed  and  suppli- 
cated all  the  gods  and  devils  that  he  knew 
of  for  success.  While  he  was  gone  upon 
this  expedition,  his  wife  must  stay  in  the 
lodge,  and  not  so  much  as  look  out  for  fear 
of  breaking  the  spell. 

He  would  advance  slowly  toward  the 
feeding  bison.  Sometimes  he  was  dressed 
in  fantastic  garb  to  attract  their  attention, 
and  frequently  he  would  be  inside  a  buffalo- 
skin,  made  up  in  some  semblance  of  the  real 


260     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

bison,  but  this  representation  was  usually 
crude. 

Finally  the  attention  of  the  buffalo  would 
be  attracted  by  the  strange  figure  coming 
toward  them.  One  and  another  would 
look  up  from  their  feeding.  Finally  one 
would  start  to  go  toward  the  strange  figure, 
for  the  buffalo  were  very  curious  in  the  old 
days  before  they  learned  to  fear  everything 
that  they  could  not  understand. 

As  the  curious  buffalo  advanced,  the 
medicine-man  would  walk  slowly  toward 
the  outspread  wings  of  the  piskun.  Other 
bison  would  follow  the  first  and  soon  scores 
would  be  following  the  medicine-man  into 
the  waiting  wings  of  the  trap. 

When  this  movement  was  well  under  way, 
a  score  or  two  of  mounted  warriors,  who 
had  been  waiting  upon  their  ponies  for  the 
purpose,  would  ride  slowly  up  along  the 
sides  of  the  herd,  to  help  guide  them 
into  the  chute,  but  they  did  not  hurry  them 


The  Last  Piskun  261 

at  this  stage  of  the  game  until  they  were 
fairly  within  the  piskun. 

Then,  when  the  leader  had  covered  per- 
haps half  of  the  distance  toward  the  pitfall, 
all  of  the  Indians  of  the  village,  including 
women  and  children,  would  rise  up  along 
the  wings  of  the  chute  and  make  a  great 
noise.  Men  beat  upon  tom-toms,  women 
shrieked  and  waved  bright  objects,  and  the 
children  yelled  with  delight,  all  tingling 
with  the  excitement,  and  this  would  start 
the  herd  running. 

The  Indians  along  the  flank  of  the  herd 
would  now  come  riding  upon  their  ponies, 
yelling  and  making  all  the  noise  possible. 
At  this  point  the  herd  would  be  stampeded 
and  begin  to  gallop  frantically.  As  it  came 
nearer  to  the  end  of  the  chute,  the  buffalo 
crowded  close  together,  and  then  with  a 
neck-breaking  rush  all  went  over  the  cliff 
where  hundreds  were  killed  if  the  drive  was 
successful.  The  Indians  thus  in  an  hour  or 


262     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

two,  or  perhaps  half  a  day,  secured  as  many 
bison  as  they  could  by  the  ordinary  means 
in  a  month. 

There  were  other  forms  of  the  piskun  but 
this  one  was  the  most  in  use.  Upon  the 
broad  plains  where  there  were  no  coulees, 
it  was  necessary  to  build  an  enormous 
corral,  closed  on  all  but  one  side.  Here,  in- 
stead of  being  eight  feet  high,  it  was  only 
four,  and  a  broad  causeway  was  built  run- 
ning up  to  this  low  place  in  the  strong 
fence. 

When  all  was  in  readiness,  the  Indians 
then  went  upon  the  plains  to  the  buffalo's 
feeding-ground  and  toled  the  herd  up  to 
this  corral,  driving  it  slowly  up  the  cause- 
way until  they  at  last  all  jumped  into  this 
death-pen.  Then  the  Indians  would  slip  up 
stealthily  and  close  up  the  low  place  in  the 
fence,  thus  trapping  the  herd.  They  were 
obliged  to  begin  the  killing  process  almost 
at  once,  for  it  was  hard  to  build  a  fence 


The  Last  Rskun 263 

strong  enough  to  hold  the  herd  for  long, 
once  its  fears  were  aroused. 

In  regions  where  there  was  no  timber  from 
which  to  build  a  corral,  a  still  more  spectac- 
ular manner  of  securing  the  buffalo  was 
resorted  to. 

A  large  village  would  encamp  in  a  circle 
completely  surrounding  the  herd  of  bison. 
Then  huge  camp-fires  would  be  builded  and 
all  the  men,  women  and  children  would 
form  a  cordon,  keeping  the  buffalo  within  the 
great  circle.  When  all  was  in  readiness  the 
warriors  of  the  village  mounted  upon  their 
best  ponies  would  ride  slowly  around  the 
herd,  gradually  increasing  their  pace,  until 
they  had  started  the  herd  to  running  in  a  great 
circle  within  the  cordon  of  camping  Indians. 
This  would  finally  take  the  form  of  a  stam- 
pede, in  which  the  foolish  bison  ran  around 
and  around  until  they  were  completely  ex- 
hausted, when  the  warriors  could  kill  with 
ease  as  many  of  the  herd  as  they  wanted. 


264     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

This  form  of  the  piskun  was  not  resorted 
to  unless  there  was  no  timber  near  by  with 
which  to  build  the  corral,  as  the  buffalo 
frequently  broke  through  the  circle,  or 
killed  some  of  the  women  and  children. 

It  must  have  been  a  striking  sight.  The 
great  camp-fires,  the  warriors  mounted  upon 
their  ponies,  with  their  bright  trappings, 
the  Indian  village,  all  animation,  and  inside 
the  frantically  running  herd  of  thousands 
of  buffalo  galloping  madly  to  death. 

There  has  been  some  discussion  among 
writers  upon  the  American  Indians  as  to 
whether  the  Indian  toled  the  buffalo  into 
the  piskun  or  whether  the  Indian  drove 
him.  From  a  careful  sifting  of  all  the  evi- 
dence, I  am  certain  that  the  bison  was 
always  toled  for  the  first  part  of  the  way  at 
least.  Any  attempt  to  drive  the  herd  at  the 
start  would  have  frightened  it  and  defeated 
the  end  in  view.  George  Bird  Grinnell, 
who  has  hunted  much  with  the  Indians,  is 


The  Last  Pcskan 265 

of  the  opinion  that  the  bison  were  always 
toled  into  the  piskun,  although  they  were 
finally  run  over  the  precipice  where  the 
slaughter  took  place. 

After  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  cut 
asunder  the  great  herd  that  had  ranged  from 
the  Dakotas  to  Texas,  the  northern  herd  ex- 
tended its  operations  farther  to  the  northf 
ranging  in  the  summer  well  up  through  the 
Canadian  prairies  toward  Saskatchewan. 

These  Canadian  prairies  are  even  much 
more  desolate  than  our  own,  for  they  are 
less  undulating  and  broken.  They  are  not 
as  well-watered,  and  there  is  almost  no 
timber  along  the  watercourses,  the  rivers  be- 
ing only  fringed  with  small  willows.  Here 
and  there  the  land  is  dotted  by  a  small  lake, 
but  the  waters  of  these  lakes  are  very  bitter, 
and  the  shore  is  fringed  with  a  salt-like 
crust,  which  proclaims  the  water  alkali 
even  before  you  taste  it. 

The  feed  upon  these  prairies,  however,  is 


266     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

very  good,  being  short,  thick,  fine  bunch 
grass.  Thus  it  came  about  that  when  the 
robe-hunters  pressed  the  northern  herd,  then 
roaming  in  the  Dakotas  and  Montana,  too 
hard,  many  of  the  bison  took  refuge  in  the 
Canadian  prairies  and  finally  they  did  not 
go  back,  even  when  the  cold  winters  swept 
down  upon  these  desolate  plains,  More 
than  the  stinging  blast  and  the  cutting  ice- 
storm,  and  the  deep  snow  which  covered  the 
grass,  they  feared  the  hail  from  the  white 
hunter's  thunder-stick.  Buck  and  his  little 
band  of  fifty  stragglers,  who  had  escaped 
from  the  United  States  soldiers,  were  the  last 
of  the  northern  herd  to  leave  the  United 
States,  and  take  refuge  in  Canada,  where  they 
found  that  their  kind  had  been  before  them. 
Like  the  plains  of  the  Dakotas,  these  Cana- 
dian prairies  were  furrowed  by  the  buffalo 
path,  leading  from  lake  to  river,  and  to  the 
best  feeding-grounds.  The  bison's  rubbing 
posts  were  everywhere  that  a  tree  large 


The  Last  Piskun 267 

enough,  or  a  boulder  high  enough  for  the 
purpose  could  be  found. 

But  even  there,  in  this  comparatively  wild 
country,  the  hunted  bison  could  not  rest 
secure  for  long.  The  white  man  had  learned 
that  these  same  plains  would  raise  wheat. 
The  land  was  new  and  full  of  the  virtue  of 
virgin  soil,  and  the  best  of  wheat  could  be 
had  merely  for  the  sowing  and  reaping.  So 
they  swarmed  across  the  Canadian  plains 
and  took  up  homesteads,  just  as  they  had 
done  in  the  central  portion  of  the  United 
States  a  generation  before. 

With  the  coming  of  the  white  man,  the 
destruction  of  the  bison  again  began.  It 
was  not  so  much  of  a  slaughter  as  it  had  been 
in  the  robe-hunting  days,  but  the  herds  were 
now  only  as  one  to  ten  thousand  compared 
with  what  they  had  been  in  the  old  days, 
so  the  inroads  of  the  Canadian  farmers  and 
hunters  were  too  much  for  them,  and  they 
again  had  to  move  on. 


268     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Northward,  still  northward,  they  fled, 
old  Buck  leading  the  way  as  a  wise  King 
should.  The  few  hundred  buffalo,  left  of 
all  the  millions,  he  still  held  together 
and  in  a  straggling  band  they  fled  to  the 
country  of  the  Saskatchewan.  Days,  weeks 
and  months  they  journeyed  until  they  left 
the  treeless  plains  far  behind  and  came  to 
the  timber  belt,  where  there  was  timber 
along  all  the  watercourses.  Not  such 
trees  as  they  had  known  in  the  southland, 
however.  Instead,  there  were  shimmering 
silver  poplars,  and  graceful  white  birches, 
dwarfed  Jack-pines,  and  quivering  aspens. 

Beneath  them  in  the  green  moss,  grouse- 
berries,  wintergreen  and  low  bush  cranber- 
ries, all  blushed  red.  The  air  was  redo- 
lent with  the  fragrance  of  the  witch-hazel, 
while  the  more  pungent  odor  of  the  wild 
cherry  filled  the  nostrils. 

It  was  to  such  a  land  as  this,  upon  the 
high  shelving  banks  of  the  broad  Saskatch- 


The  Last  Piskttn 269 

ewan,  to  which  Buck  finally  led  his  little 
herd. 

It  seemed  like  a  goodly  land  into  which 
they  had  come,  with  more  timber,  making 
cover  in  which  to  hide ;  also  more  food  and 
larger  rivers,  for  the  bison  loves  above  all 
things  to  wade  and  wallow,  some  varieties, 
like  the  water  buffalo  of  the  Philippines, 
being  partially  aquatic. 

It  would  seem  as  though  they  might  rest 
now.  They  had  come  to  a  land  of  plenty, 
with  good  water  and  good  thick  cover  in 
which  to  hide,  but  even  here  they  were  not 
safe,  for  they  had  come  again  within  reach 
of  their  first  slayer,  the  red  man. 

Not  over  a  hundred  miles  distant,  as  the 
crow  flies,  was  Fort  Edmonton,  where  was 
located  the  trading-post  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company.  In  fact,  that  great  com- 
pany not  only  dominated  the  northern  por- 
tion of  this  Saskatchewan  country,  but  also 
lonely  Athabasca  to  the  north.  Where  it 


270     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

was  too  cold  and  desolate  for  other  men, 
there  you  might  find  the  trappers  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company.  For  the  beaver, 
the  muskrat,  the  mink,  the  otter,  and  all 
the  other  furred  denizens  of  the  wilderness 
dwelt  here. 

Clustered  about  Fort  Edmonton,  like  a 
lot  of  barnacles  upon  a  great  ship,  were  the 
teepees  of  the  Cree  Indians.  In  fact,  a  horde 
of  Indians  and  half-breeds  (breeds  as  they 
were  called)  always  hung  about  the  fort. 
For  a  part  of  the  year  they  trapped  and  for 
the  rest  spent  their  money  for  whiskey  and 
tobacco  and  hunted  and  fished. 

It  was  into  the  favorite  hunting-ground 
of  the  Cree  Indians,  the  aborigines  of  the 
upper  Saskatchewan  country,  that  Buck 
had  unwittingly  led  his  little  herd,  so 
while  they  luxuriated  in  this  new-found 
land  of  milk  and  honey  the  Crees  dis- 
covered their  coming  and  soon  were  busy 
laying  plans  for  their  destruction. 


The  Last  Piskun  271 

It  was  late  October  and  the  blue  haze  of 
Indian  summer  was  over  the  land  of  the 
Saskatchewan.  Nearly  all  the  ducks  had 
winnowed  past,  as  the  cold  weather  comes 
early  in  this  northland.  The  muskrat  had 
builded  his  house  and  was  in  readiness 
for  winter.  The  little  herd  of  buffalo,  over 
which  Buck  still  reigned,  for  he  had  still 
been  King  all  through  the  troublesome 
days  when  they  had  fled  from  the  United 
States,  was  sleek  with  the  good  feeding  of 
these  rich  lands.  Their  coats  were  long 
and  glossy  and  their  ribs  were  covered  with 
fat. 

They  wandered  about  upon  the  prairies 
or  secreted  themselves  in  the  small  timber 
along  the  affluents  of  the  Saskatchewan. 
Upon  the  banks  of  this  broad,  picturesque 
river  a  large  hunting-party  of  Crees  were 
camped.  They  had  come  down  two  days 
before  to  slay  this  little  herd,  the  last  of  the 
American  bison.  They  could  not  be  con- 


272     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

tent  with  slaughtering  a  few,  but  must  sate 
themselves  with  blood  and  kill  the  whole 
herd. 

For  two  days  they  had  been  very  busy, 
working  as  these  lazy  men  rarely  work,  and 
everything  was  now  in  readiness. 

They  had  chosen  a  spot  for  their  piskun 
where  a  deep  coulee  ploughed  a  furrow 
nearly  thirty  feet  deep  through  the  prairies. 
At  this  spot  the  banks  were  almost  perpen- 
dicular. They  had  felled  trees  across  the 
chasm,  using  the  white  man's  sharp  axes, 
until  they  had  formed  a  pen-trap  a  hun- 
dred feet  long,  fifty  feet  wide,  and  thirty 
feet  deep.  Once  inside  this  pen  no  horned 
creature  could  escape,  unless  it  was  a  big- 
horn sheep. 

From  this  slaughter-pen  they  had  builded 
wings  running  out  into  the  prairies.  At 
the  immediate  banks  these  wings  were  not 
more  than  ten  feet  apart,  and  here  they 
were  strong,  builded  like  a  stockade ;  but 


The  Last  Piskun  273 

farther  out  on  the  prairies  they  were  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  apart,  gradually  diver- 
ging, and  here  they  were  formed  by  merely 
sticking  brush  in  the  ground,  the  slightest 
kind  of  a  flimsy  brush  fence  simply  to  mark 
the  way  the  death  path  led. 

Now  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  the  war- 
riors sat  about  the  camp-fire,  telling  of 
many  buffalo  runs  in  which  they  had  par- 
ticipated in  the  old  days  when  the  bison 
were  found  in  herds  to  the  south  as  numer- 
ous as  the  stars  of  night,  in  the  hunter's 
moon. 

Big  Wind,  a  grizzled  old  chief,  headed 
the  expedition.  He  had  seen  more  buffalo 
runs  than  any  Indian  of  the  Cree  nation. 
When  he  had  been  a  young  brave,  he 
averred  that  the  bison  were  as  plentiful  in 
the  herds  to  the  south  as  the  sands  upon 
the  shore  of  the  great  waters. 

Evil  Eye,  the  dark  medicine-man,  was 
doing  strange  things  in  his  lodge,  for  with- 


274     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

out  his  incantations  there  was  no  certainty 
that  luck  would  be  with  the  hunt  on  the 
morrow.  His  squaw  sat  with  her  face 
toward  the  wall,  and  might  not  move  from 
that  position  until  after  the  run  of  the  mor- 
row. 

Badger  Tooth  had  the  greatest  repute  of 
any  among  the  Crees  as  a  buffalo  trailer, 
and  he  it  was  who,  mounted  upon  his  fa- 
vorite cayuse,  would  lure  the  buffalo  to 
their  death. 

The  following  morning,  just  about  the 
time  when  that  first  faint  shimmer  came 
into  the  east,  even  before  it  grew  pink  and 
saffron,  Badger  Tooth,  mounted  upon  a  pinto 
that  had  been  in  many  buffalo  hunts, 
was  pounding  the  prairie  southward,  going 
to  locate  the  bison.  But  an  hour  before, 
two  other  warriors  had  gone  away,  one  to 
the  southeast,  and  the  other  to  the  south- 
west, each  to  make  a  large  circle  and  come 
out  to  the  south  of  the  herd.  The  wind 


The  Last  Piskun  275 

was  in  the  south  so  the  trailer  could  work 
up  to  within  seeing  distance  of  the  feeding 
buffalo  without  scaring  them.  Presently 
he  came  out  on  the  plains  within  full  view 
of  the  herd,  but  they  got  no  scent  of  him, 
and  as  the  bison's  eyesight  is  not  very  good, 
were  not  frightened. 

A  few  minutes  before  he  had  located  his 
companions,  who  had  gone  southward  in 
the  early  morning.  They  were  in  position 
and  working  slowly  up  toward  the  herd, 
but  not  too  near,  for  they  were  on  the  wind- 
ward side,  and  the  scent  carried  far  upon 
these  open  plains. 

The  Indian  trailer  had  his  blanket  tied 
upon  the  end  of  a  long  stick  and  he  waved 
it  to  and  fro  in  the  wind  as  he  rode,  so  that 
it  looked  as  though  the  winds  blew  it. 
These  movements  of  the  blanket  were  so 
continuous  that  he  did  not  look  much  like 
a  horseman  to  the  feeding  bison.  Presently 
one  of  the  lowered  heads  was  raised,  and 


276     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

then  another  as  though  the  fact  of  the  pres- 
ence had  been  communicated  from  one  to 
another  until  finally  a  score  of  bulls  were 
staring  at  the  strange  figure  in  the  distance. 

He  had  gotten  their  attention,  so  now  was 
the  time  for  the  warriors  in  the  south  to 
appear.  This  they  soon  did,  riding  at  a 
trot,  and  making  considerable  noise.  Their 
scent  was  immediately  carried  to  the  herd 
and  all  heads  were  soon  up  and  alarm  was 
in  all  their  movements. 

At  this  point  the  buffalo  trailer  turned 
his  horse  and  rode  off  to  the  north  at  a 
walk.  Buck  looked  first  at  the  strange 
figure  and  then  to  the  south.  In  that 
direction  was  surely  danger,  for  thence  came 
both  sounds  and  scents  that  were  a  menace. 
But  this  figure  in  front  of  them  did  not 
menace  them.  Perhaps  it  was  another 
buffalo,  a  wise  bison  who  might  lead  them 
to  safety.  So  he  began  walking  slowly  after 
the  figure,  which  he  did  not  fully  under- 


The  Last  Fiskun 277 

stand.  The  figure  ahead  quickened  its 
pace  to  a  trot,  and  Buck  quickened  his 
also. 

Sounds  of  real  danger  now  came  from  the 
south,  for  a  dozen  warriors,  who  had  been 
waiting  upon  the  plains,  concealed  by  a 
convenient  swell,  now  closed  in  on  both 
sides  of  the  herd  to  help  stampede  it. 

The  figure  ahead  quickened  its  pace  to  a 
sharp  trot.  Buck  followed  suit,  and  slowly, 
like  an  avalanche,  the  entire  cumbersome 
herd  gathered  headway. 

They  were  now  well  within  the  outer  end 
of  the  wings,  and  Buck  scented  danger  on 
both  sides  of  him,  but  the  way  ahead 
seemed  clear,  so  he  thundered  on.  And 
well  he  might  scent  danger  behind  the 
rapidly  converging  wings,  for  the  entire 
village  of  the  Crees,  which  had  come  down 
for  the  purpose  that  very  morning,  was 
waiting  behind  these  screens,  waiting  until 
just  the  right  moment  when  they  should 


278     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

add  terror  to  the  flying  hoofs  of  the  already 
thoroughly  alarmed  herd. 

The  buffalo  trailer  now  leaned  close  to 
his  pinto's  neck  and  gave  him  the  quirt. 
Maddened  by  the  stinging  lash,  the  pony 
galloped  forward  like  the  wind.  He  too 
knew  the  game,  for  he  had  led  this  death- 
race  before  and  really  needed  no  urging. 
Head  down  and  tail  out  straight,  his  long 
black  beard  sweeping  the  ground,  old  Buck 
galloped  after  him,  pounding  the  earth  with 
his  ton  of  sinew  and  muscle. 

The  bulls  behind  bellowed  to  their  com- 
panions to  come  on.  Cows  lowed  plain- 
tively to  their  calves,  who  crowded  to  the 
center  of  the  herd  for  protection.  Fear  was 
in  the  air,  fear  was  in  the  sod  beneath  their 
hoofs.  This  fear  became  frenzy  when  a 
score  of  warriors  burst  from  concealment  in 
their  rear  and  stung  the  hindmost  with 
flint-headed  arrows,  at  the  same  time  yelling 
like  a  score  of  red  devils,  which  they  really 


The  Last  Piskun  279 

were  for  the  time.  Simultaneously  with 
that  move  all  the  waiting  women  and  chil- 
dren rose  up  from  behind  the  wings  and 
screamed  and  waved  blankets.  Pandemo- 
nium had  broken  loose  on  every  hand. 

The  fear  in  those  thousands  of  galloping 
hoofs  became  frenzy.  Madly,  frantically 
they  galloped.  Safety  was  only  to  be  had 
ahead. 

A  cloud  of  dust  like  a  winding-sheet  rose 
beneath  those  sharp-cutting  hoofs,  which 
beat  the  prairies  with  a  roar  like  Niagara. 
Thus,  all  unconscious  of  its  fate,  fear-crazed, 
with  what  little  sense  they  ordinarily  pos- 
sessed gone,  the  herd  swept  on  to  its  doom. 

The  buffalo  trailer  now  lashed  his  cayuse 
frantically.  Full  well  he  knew  the  risk 
that  he  was  running.  A  misstep,  a  stumble 
by  the  pinto  and  he  would  be  ground  to 
pulp  beneath  that  avalanche  behind. 

But  the  slight  opening,  through  which  he 
was  to  escape  to  safety,  was  close  at  hand. 


280     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

What  if  he  should  miss  it,  and  fall  into  the 
death-trap  that  he  had  helped  plan  for  the 
herd  1  Frantically  he  tugged  upon  the 
thong  about  the  pinto's  neck  and  dug  his 
left  leg  into  the  pony's  side.  Faithful  to 
the  sign,  like  a  flash  the  cayuse  shot  through 
the  opening  just  in  time  to  escape  Buck's 
short  horns. 

The  King  saw  the  opening  and  the  disap- 
pearing figure  ahead,  but  not  in  time  to 
follow.  He  was  too  cumbersome  and  the 
turn  was  too  short  for  his  great  body.  So 
he  thundered  on,  the  herd  behind  him  each 
second  becoming  more  closely  wedged,  for 
the  frenzied  cows  and  bulls  were  pressing 
forward  like  a  landslide,  lashed  into  their 
utmost  pace  by  the  yelling  devils  in  their 
rear. 

But  to  Buck's  straining  eyes,  freedom 
seemed  just  ahead  where  the  open  prairie 
stretched  and  no  foe  seemed  in  sight. 

At  that  instant  the  death-trap — broad, 


LIKE  A  FLASH,  THE  CAYUSE  SHOT  THROUGH  THE  OPENING 


The  Last  Fiskun  281 

deep,  and  terrible— opened  at  his  very 
feet.  Luckily  for  the  King,  he  was  one 
jump  ahead  of  the  rest  of  the  herd,  and 
in  the  time  to  cover  that  one  jump,  he 
turned  and  crashed  through  the  parapet  at 
the  very  brink  of  the  chasm. 

But  those  who  came  behind  him  were  not 
so  lucky  as  he,  for  they  had  not  time  to 
turn.  The  tide  behind  them  was  too  deep 
and  too  strong.  So  struggling  and  frantic- 
ally pawing  the  air,  they  went  over  the 
brink, — one,  three,  five  at  a  time,  in  mad 
chaos  piling  higher  and  higher. 

Bellows,  groans,  moans  and  deep  grunts 
filled  the  air :  the  deep  bass  of  agonized 
bulls;  the  high-keyed  wavering  bawl  of 
broken-kneed  cows  ;  and  the  pathetic  bleat- 
ing of  calves,  who  had  all  been  carried  high 
upon  the  crest  of  this  heaving  tidal  wave  and 
then  plunged  to  a  horrible  death  in  the 
depths  below. 

Into  the  death-chasm,  spurred  on  by  the 


282     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

yelling  Indians  in  their  rear,  they  leaped, 
tumbled  and  rolled, — cows,  bulls  and  calves, 
until  there  were  no  more  to  come.  Of  the 
entire  herd,  only  half  a  dozen  bulls  that 
had  broken  away  just  before  they  entered 
the  wings,  and  one  who  had  followed  Buck's 
lead  through  the  gap  he  had  made,  alone 
had  escaped. 

When  the  last  terrified  bison  had  plunged 
to  his  doom,  warriors,  squaws  and  children 
all  swarmed  to  the  brink  of  this  inferno, 
yelling  like  demons.  Then  the  pande- 
monium increased  tenfold,  for  the  real  kill- 
ing began.  Rifles  and  revolvers  belched 
forth  their  deadly  contents,  and  long  arrows 
armed  with  stinging  flint-heads  sped  from 
twanging  bowstrings.  Those  in  the  death- 
trap, who  had  not  been  badly  injured  by 
their  fall,  ran  frantically  about  seeking  for 
some  way  out.  But  there  was  none, — only 
death  on  every  hand. 

For  an  hour  the  slaughter  went  on  and 


The  Last  Ftskun 283 

one  by  one  the  stragglers  fell  never  to  rise 
again.  Finally  all  was  over,  and  only  the 
sound  of  dying  bison  came  feebly  up  to  the 
listening  ears  of  the  braves.  Then  the 
squaws,  whose  hour  had  come,  descended 
into  this  arena  of  blood  and  began  the  skin- 
ning and  cutting  up  of  the  meat. 

That  night  there  was  a  gorge  in  the  vil- 
lage of  the  Crees  that  was  memorable  for 
many  a  year.  All  night  the  flesh-pots 
simmered  over  the  fires,  and  the  gorge  went 
on.  When  all  could  eat  no  more,  they  lay 
down  like  glutted  animals  and  slept,  and 
their  hearts  were  glad  because  their  stomachs 
were  full. 

On  the  crest  of  a  distant  swell  Buck 
turned  and  looked  back  for  a  second.  He 
saw  the  dancing  circle  of  yelling  Indians 
leaping  about  the  edge  of  the  death-pen 
where  something  told  him  that  his  little 
herd  floundered.  One  glance  was  enough 
for  the  King,  who  was  a  King  no  longer. 


284     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

So  he  fled  on,  fear  growing  upon  him  with 
each  league  he  left  behind. 

Through  broad  rivers  he  swam  and  up 
their  precipitate  banks  he  scrambled  and  gal- 
loped away  to  the  north.  Surely  if  he  ran 
far  enough  in  that  direction  he  would  reach 
a  land  which  man  had  not  penetrated. 

Over  broad  stretches  of  prairies  he  fled, 
and  through  deep  coulees  where  the  trees 
stood  green  and  inviting.  Only  when 
hunger  impelled  him,  did  he  stop  to  feed ; 
only  when  thirst,  that  he  could  not  with- 
stand, gripped  his  throat  did  he  stop  to 
drink. 

Fear  whispered  to  him  in  the  wings  of  the 
wind  ;  fear  spoke  to  him  in  the  whisper  from 
the  sod ;  fear  murmured  in  the  passing 
waters  of  each  river ;  fear  resounded  in  the 
very  echoes  of  his  own  hoofs  as  he  galloped 
over  the  plains.  The  flesh  that  had  been 
thick  upon  his  ribs  left  him,  and  he  grew 
thin  and  lank.  Far  into  each  night  he 


The  Last  Piskun 285 

fled,  only  stopping  in  lonely  places,  scores 
of  miles  from  the  haunts  of  men. 

But  as  he  fled,  gradually  the  sense  of 
fear  grew  less,  for  he  no  longer  saw  any 
indications  of  man.  Upon  the  vast  treeless 
barrens  that  he  at  last  reached,  or  in  the 
deep,  swampy  places,  luxuriant  with  a 
tangle  of  green  growing  things,  was  no 
sign  of  his  destroyer.  Here  again  was  good 
feed,  feed  that  kept  green  long  after  the 
grass  upon  the  barrens  had  withered,  for 
Buck  was  just  upon  the  edge  of  the  Land  of 
the  Muskeg,  the  lonely  domain  of  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company,  where  only  the  trapper 
cared  to  penetrate.  A  lonely  land,  manless, 
and  almost  Godless  it  seemed,  but  peace  was 
there  and  fear  had  been  left  far  behind. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  LAND  OF  THE  MUSKEG 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   LAND  OP  THE  MUSKEG 

THE  Land  of  the  Muskeg  is  a  lonely 
no  man's  country,  far  beyond  the  utmost 
northern  borders  of  Saskatchewan.  Few 
white  men  ever  visit  this  land,  as  it  is  sev- 
eral weeks'  journey  by  a  small  Hudson's 
Bay  Company's  steamer,  and  thence  by 
canoe,  and  if  you  would  go  to  the  heart  of 
this  country  you  must  travel  on  foot. 
Even  when  you  arrive,  there  is  not  much 
to  see  ; — only  a  vast  stretch  of  almost  tree- 
less barrens,  or  on  the  other  hand  deep,  se- 
questered muskegs,  tamarack  fringed. 

These  muskegs  are  most  of  them  many 
acres  in  extent,  a  sort  of  cross  between  a 
bog  and  a  swale.  They  are  overgrown 
with  water-grasses,  clinging  mosses,  and 


290     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

low  bush  cranberries.  Some  of  the  way  the 
ground  beneath  is  like  jelly,  trembling  and 
quivering  as  you  approach,  while  in  other 
places  it  is  a  black  peat,  where  many  a  tree 
has  been  sucked  down  into  the  soft  ooze. 

This  lonely  country  is  threaded  by  many 
rivers,  and  dotted  by  numerous  lakes ;  so 
it  is  the  abode  of  all  the  little  furred  folk 
for  whose  sleek  hides  man  has  ever  been  so 
greedy. 

There  Umisk,  the  beaver,  builds  his 
strange,  cunningly  constructed  dam  across 
the  stream,  flooding  the  lowlands,  and  in 
the  middle  of  his  lake  rears  his  symmet- 
rical mud-house, — wise  little  Venetian, 
nearer  to  the  ways  of  man  in  his  mode  of 
life  than  any  other  of  God's  creatures. 

There  Nekik,  the  otter,  coasts  down  his 
slide  upon  his  belly  with  as  much  delight 
and  abandon  as  a  boy  might  upon  a  new 
sled. 

There  Wuchusk,  the  musquash,   whom 


The  Land  of  the  Muskeg         291 

you  may  know  better  as  the  plain  musk- 
rat,  builds  high  his  house  of  roots  and  grass 
against  the  coming  of  cold.  When  the 
winter  winds  howl  outside,  his  strange 
abode  will  serve  him  both  for  food  and 
shelter. 

It  is  in  this  weird  land  that  Pisew,  the 
lynx,  steals  with  stealthy  tread  over  the 
new  snow,  his  broad  pads  leaving  an  un- 
mistakable track. 

He  is  looking  for  Wapoose,  the  rabbit, 
who  is  food,  in  all  but  the  plague  year,  for 
all  the  carnivorous  four-footed  creatures 
that  creep  and  spring,  and  all  the  hungry 
beaks  of  the  air.  It  is  well  that  Wapoose's 
snow-shoe  feet  touch  the  snow  light  as 
thistledown  and  that  his  coat  is  white,  else 
he  might  not  withstand  the  war  of  exter- 
mination waged  against  him. 

In  this  No  Man's  Land,  Carcajous,  the 
wolverine,  toils  with  the  traps  of  the  breeds 
and  Indians  who  scour  the  country  for  the 


292     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

Hudson's  Bay  Company.  With  diabolical 
cunning  he  will  spring  their  traps  and  eat 
the  bait,  or  will  raid  their  camps  and  des- 
troy all  that  he  cannot  cache  where  he  can 
find  it  again. 

Only  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  is 
this  land  of  the  barren  and  the  muskeg 
valuable.  To  them  it  is  an  Eldorado,  for 
it  is  the  home  of  the  fur  folk. 

If  you  were  to  find  it  upon  the  map, 
your  finger  would  have  to  follow  a  long 
chain  of  lakes  and  rivers  far  to  the  north 
and  there  you  would  discover  the  name 
Athabasca.  This  then  is  the  Land  of  the 
Muskeg. 

It  is  a  warm  spring  twilight  in  the  Atha- 
basca, for  spring  does  come  at  last  even  in 
that  far  north  country.  The  breath  of  the 
wind  is  sweet  with  spring  odors,  most  pun- 
gent of  which  is  the  water  willow.  Marsh- 
birds  are  shrilling  in  the  tamaracks,  while 
an  occasional  seed-eater  is  balancing  upon 


The  Land  of  the  Muskeg         293 

the  top  of  a  dead  weed,  looking  for  his 
supper. 

Oat  of  the  gray  green  twilight  of  the 
Muskeg,  where  it  is  always  half  day  and 
half  night,  stalks  a  massive  dark-brown 
figure.  The  coat  of  this  strange  figure  is 
long  and  glossy,  telling  of  good  feed  and 
plenty.  Black  glowing  eyes  look  out  from 
shaggy  eyebrows  at  the  peaceful  scene,  while 
from  beneath  the  jowl  a  long  thick  black 
beard  nearly  sweeps  the  ground.  This 
beard  is  rather  unkempt,  being  filled  with 
nettles  and  beggar's-lice. 

The  impression  that  one  gets  from  this 
massive  figure,  with  its  heavy  fore-quarters, 
and  its  massive  head,  is  one  of  strength. 
This  is  a  creature  that  would  withstand 
anything,  you  would  say.  Yet  this  is  not 
so,  for  this  erstwhile  King  of  the  Plains  has 
gone  down  before  the  rifle  of  man,  where 
many  a  smaller,  weaker  creature  has  sur- 
vived. 


294     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

But  what  of  this  lone  figure  on  the  fringe 
of  the  Muskeg,  standing  there  in  a  con- 
templative mood,  chewing  his  cud  neath 
the  overhanging  tamarack  ?  He  is  our  old 
friend  Buck,  the  disinherited  King  of  all 
the  North  American  Bison  that  formerly 
ranged  from  Saskatchewan  to  Kansas.  Here 
he  stands  upon  the  edge  of  the  Muskeg,  one 
of  the  few  survivors  of  his  species. 

But  his  kingship  has  not  yet  quite  fallen 
from  him,  for  in  and  out  among  the 
Muskegs  and  upon  the  barrens,  come  and 
go  fifty  or  a  hundred  buffalo,  although 
their  coats  are  longer  and  they  are  taller 
and  rangier  than  of  yore.  They  are  the 
wood  buffalo  of  the  Athabasca,  so  says  the 
naturalist,  but  you  and  I  know  that  they 
are  the  remnant  of  the  old  King's  great 
herd,  fugitives  from  the  mercy  of  man,  es- 
caped to  a  land  so  desolate  and  so  forbid- 
ding that  the  white  destroyer  with  his  fire 
stick  will  not  follow  hence. 


The  Land  of  the  Muskeg         295 

For  five  minutes  the  massive  dark  figure 
stands  under  the  larch,  chewing  his  cud ; 
then  slowly  he  turns,  for  all  of  his  motions 
are  slow,  and  fades  into  the  gray  gloom 
from  whence  he  came,  a  shade  among  the 
shadows,  the  silent  reproachful  ghost  of  the 
Thundering  Herd. 

On  the  same  day  and  almost  the  same 
hour  that  we  last  glimpsed  old  Buck  in  the 
Land  of  the  Muskeg,  a  scene  was  being 
enacted  a  thousand  or  more  miles  to  the 
south,  upon  a  Kansas  homestead,  that  con- 
nected the  forlorn  old  buffalo  with  ties  of 
peculiar  tenderness  to  the  past. 

Two  stalwart  young  men,  Benjamin  and 
Thomas  Anderson,  aged  twenty-five  and 
twenty-three  years  respectively,  are  carrying 
a  wrinkle-faced,  rusty-coated  old  dog  out 
on  the  lawn  and  laying  him  down  beside  a 
newly-dug  grave. 

It  needs  but  a  glance  at  the  anxious  gray- 
haired  face  of  the  dog  to  assure  you  that  he 


296     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

is  very  old, — sixteen  years,  in  fact,  which 
is  an  extreme  age  for  a  dog. 

It  is  none  other  than  our  old  friend 
Shep, — he  of  the  merry  bark  and  the  laugh- 
ing face.  Time,  the  omnivorous,  has 
claimed  him,  and  his  friends,  each  with 
an  ache  in  his  heart  of  which  he  is  not 
ashamed,  have  gathered  to  do  him  honor. 
For  was  he  not  one  of  them  ? 

When  had  any  member  of  the  family  a 
heartache,  or  a  joy  that  they  could  hide 
from  Shep?  For  sixteen  years  he  had 
hung  his  tail  when  they  were  sorry  and 
wagged  it  when  they  were  glad, — a  sure 
weather-vane  of  joy  and  sorrow  in  the 
Anderson  family.  So  could  they  not  well 
afford  to  mourn  at  the  little  new  grave 
under  the  willow  ? 

Half  an  hour  before,  stretched  upon  the 
kitchen  floor  with  the  family  about,  Shep 
had  breathed  his  last.  Even  his  last  doggish 
impulse  had  been  full  of  love  for  his  friends. 


The  Land  of  the  Muskeg         297 

As  his  life  ebbed,  each  member  of  the 
family  kneeled  down  for  Shep's  farewell 
kiss.  Tenderly  the  dog's  long  affectionate 
tongue  stole  out  and  licked  the  hands  of 
those  whom  he  loved  with  a  devotion  that 
puts  to  shame  the  fidelity  of  mere  man. 

Thus  with  the  scent  of  those  dear  hands 
that  had  caressed  him,  in  his  nostrils,  the 
faithful  dog  had  departed.  Gone,  who 
shall  say  where,  but  if  love  and  devotion 
count  for  anything  in  the  brute  kingdom, 
he  cannot  be  far  from  his  master. 

Even  after  his  faithful  nose  could  no 
longer  distinguish  the  scent  of  his  friends, 
the  bushy  brown  tail  upon  the  floor  con- 
tinued to  whack,  showing  that  the  faithful 
dog's  last  impulse  was  to  express  more  of 
that  devotion  which  he  still  felt  dimly  as 
his  dying  impulse  down  in  the  dark  and 
the  cold. 

When  the  tail  had  given  its  last  faint 
flutter,  the  young  men  picked  him  up 


298     The  King  of  the  Thundering  Herd 

tenderly  and  carried  him  forth,  their  par- 
ents bringing  up  the  rear. 

"  What  changes  in  our  family  Shep  has 
lived  to  see,"  said  Mrs.  Anderson  with  a  sob 
in  her  throat  at  the  end. 

"  Yes,  mother ;  he  has  seen  us  travel  the 
long  road  from  poverty  to  prosperity,"  said 
Mr.  Anderson.  "  He  was  two  years  old,  a 
frisky,  frolicksome  pup  when  we  started  in 
that  old  schooner,  away  back  in  Indiana, 
for  the  land  of  Kansas.  Shep  made  the 
entire  trip  with  us,  and  he  was  the  very 
laughter  of  the  family,  always  ready  to  grin 
and  wag  his  tail." 

"  I  never  shall  forget  the  night  that  you 
left  Shep  and  me  alone  on  the  banks  of  the 
Missouri  River,  while  you  went  back  for 
mother  and  Tom,"  said  Benjamin.  "  Shep 
seemed  to  know  that  I  was  half  scared  out 
of  my  wits,  and  he  was  continually  telling 
me  in  his  dog  way,  '  I'll  take  care  of  you.' 
I  went  to  sleep  with  my  head  upon  his  side, 


The  Land  of  the  Muskeg         299 

and  one  hand  upon  my  rifle  and  I  do  not 
think  that  I  ever  slept  better." 

"  What  friends  he  and  Little  Bighead 
were ! "  put  in  Thomas.  "  How  they  would 
frisk  and  caper  together  I  Faithless  old 
Buck,  what  a  scapegrace  he  turned  out  to 
be." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Anderson,  "  not  faithless, 
but  faithful.  He  was  born  in  the  great 
herd  and  it  was  as  inevitable  that  he  would 
return  to  it  as  that  the  spring  which  bub- 
bles from  the  hillside  should  return  to  the 
sea  whence  it  came." 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

BIOLOGY  LIBRARY 

TEL.  NO.  642-2532 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


MAR  3  11976 

RETURNED  -B! 

LOGY 

APR  2  £  70 

I****  —„.„.„-._ 

LD21A-6m-l,'75                               General  Library 
(S3364slO)476-A-32                     University  of  California 
Berkeley 

